


2167

by chogiwonderful_you



Series: 2167 [1]
Category: EXO (Band), Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: AU- Mass Effect, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Mission Fic, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, accessible to non mass effect fans, chinaline as turians, references to past scientific experimentation on children, references to past sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chogiwonderful_you/pseuds/chogiwonderful_you
Summary: After seven years in hiding, Jongdae slips up on a job and exposes his exceedingly rare biotic abilities. Knowing that the gangs who run his home planet will stop at nothing to get their hands on him, he stows away on the first ship he can find. But when that ship turns out to be a turian military vessel in the middle of a top secret mission, his escape plan gets a lot more complicated.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, a big thank you to Friend for all of her help with this story. There's no way I could have finished it without her support. I have been thinking about writing this AU since I entered the EXO fandom in 2016, so it's definitely been a long time coming.
> 
> I worked to make this fic as accessible as possible to non-Mass Effect fans. For fans of ME, I did make a few small changes that I will note in the end notes. Also, for those who want a better visual, here's a picture of what a [turian looks like.](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/masseffect/images/a/a5/Turian_without_armor.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20100203000848)
> 
> Work is complete and will be updated on Tuesdays and Thursdays

Jongdae ran. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been running. He only knew it had been long enough that each ragged breath he took burned his lungs. His legs felt like lead and the shock of his feet hitting the ground reverberated through him with every step. But no matter what, he knew he couldn’t stop.

He had been a fucking sentimental idiot. And that’s what he hated most about all of this - knowing that giving a damn for those thirty seconds was what was going to get him caught.

He couldn’t hear anyone still following him, but he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy - not on Valern, not when he was worth more money than most people on this rock had ever seen. He might have enough time to catch his breath at least.

He ducked into an alleyway. He didn’t dare sit down. He wasn’t sure his legs would support him if he tried to stand again.

Seven years of freedom and he had managed to throw it all away. The kid had been so young and his hands were shaking as he had held the gun. Travers had known there was going to be a fight, practically guaranteed it by going for cargo dropped in Vijay’s territory. Jongdae had spent enough time on the periphery of the gang for him to develop a reliable reputation, but this new kid? He was just a number.

Jongdae really hadn’t meant to, but when the bullet came flying towards the boy, he reached out and threw up a biotic barrier. The bullet had fallen uselessly to the ground.

He had hoped the kid would be too shocked to remember. The flash of blue light had only been for a split second, and no one else was looking their way, too busy surviving the firefight.

It was a fucking stupid thing to do. He didn’t even know the kid - couldn’t even remember his name now. Saving him wasn’t going to do a goddamn thing in the long run. If it wasn’t a bullet today, it would be radiation poisoning next year. If he was really being honest with himself, he did it because the boy reminded him of Sehun. But Sehun was gone, dead hopefully, and saving some stupid kid wasn’t going to magically bring him back.

The problem with running from the Blue Suns was that the gang practically ran Valern now. In theory, the planet was run by some mining corporation, but the company had been hands-off ever since the mines started to dry up and radiation poisoning made future colonization undesirable. The Suns were quick to take advantage of the lack of oversight and bribed most of the local government to look the other way as they used Valern as a storage for drugs and trafficking. There wasn’t any part of Valern the Suns didn’t have their hands on.

Jongdae hadn’t meant to run to the spaceport, especially since that was basically Suns central. But it was either that or the nearly interminable desert that covered most of Valern. The Suns from before hadn’t found him, but news traveled fast on Valern, especially when there was a payout to be had. It wasn’t crazy to think that the gang he was running from might have radioed ahead to let them know to be on the lookout for him.

Jongdae dropped down behind a shipping container and peeked out at the spaceport. The spaceport was built into the side of a cliff, so there was nowhere for Jongdae to go besides back the way he came. Right now, the docks were pretty empty, but it was nearly dark - nobody legitimate was trying to do business at this hour anyways. Throwing caution to the wind, he let himself slide down the side of the container and collapse on the still scalding metal of the spaceport dock.

He couldn’t go back to Travers’s gang obviously, and he was sure the Suns would get the news out to all of the other smaller gangs that operated in the area. He could maybe try his chances in the mines, but would he really be able to lay low there? The Suns weren’t very interested in the mines, but that didn’t mean that they left them alone entirely. The desert was out of the question: between the heat and the lack of radiation meds, he’d probably be dead within the month.

There was a loud clank and the sound of someone swearing in a language he didn’t understand. The man had his back turned to Jongdae as he scanned a crate with an omni-tool. He shouted something to someone inside his ship’s cargo hold.

His ship.

Jongdae had been so caught up in the idea of where he could hide on Valern that he didn’t even think about leaving it. Maybe it had seemed too far-fetched to even contemplate. Someone like him couldn’t just walk onto a ship like he belonged there. Not before today and certainly not now. Sneaking aboard a ship was going to be crazy risky, but there was nothing left for him on Valern; it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

If he could get on board the ship docked here, he could maybe hide out in the vents or some small nook like that until they landed at their next port and he could escape. It would leave a lot to chance, but it was either the risk of being killed by mercs or the guarantee of being sold and experimented on again. Just the thought of that made him shiver despite the heat.

The ship in front of him had at least two people he would have to get past in order to sneak on board. He heard a new set of footsteps approach where the man with the omni-tool was standing; his partner maybe? He looked out from around the container again, but quickly ducked back at the sight of a Blue Suns insignia. He held his breath for a few moments before realizing the Blue Sun wasn’t heading his way - probably hadn’t even seen him at all. When Jongdae poked his head out again, he realized that the man in the Blue Suns uniform was arguing with the man who had been scanning the crate. The man with the ship was waving someone over, likely the person he had been shouting to before. If Jongdae was lucky, and it really was just those two, this might be the perfect - not to mention only - opportunity to get aboard.

He’d have to be smart about this. Running was totally out of the question, despite how much his body was screaming at him to just make a break for it. Instead, he braced himself against the shipping container and stood slowly, pulling the hood of his ratty sweatshirt up over his head so that it covered his eyes. He kept his head down as he approached, but his eyes darted to the Blue Sun and the man’s argument to make sure neither would pay any attention to him. The third person was nowhere to be seen.

He was maybe fifty feet from the entrance to the ship, and he wasn’t sure how he was planning to cross that final distance. Aware of the possibility of eyes on him, he pretended to inspect some shipment or another while he tried to figure out what to do next.

The man with the spaceship was arguing in another language. Pretty much everyone on Valern spoke English, but few besides the Suns could afford the expensive omni-tool this man had. When his device linked with the merc’s, it would translate anything he said instantly.

The merc, on the other hand, was yelling back in English:

“I don’t care if he brings back your whole damn crew. No one leaves without Vido’s sign off.”

The man crossed his arms and said something in such a cold, calm tone that even Jongdae felt intimidated despite having no idea what the threat had actually been.

And this was who he was going to have to hide from for who knows how long.

But what the merc said: the third man had gone off to fetch someone, which meant he might not be in the cargo bay. There was still no way he was going to be able to get past the other two and just walk in.

He scanned the dock again. It was finally starting to get dark, and between that and the fine fog of sand that was always present on Valern, it was getting harder to see. This might be an advantage, though. While they would definitely notice a person boarding the ship, they might not notice if Jongdae did something a little less conspicuous.

The man was obviously loading a shipment onto his ship, and Jongdae was small for his age and didn’t weigh much. If he could get inside one of those containers, maybe they would load him onto the ship without realizing it.

He’d have to be careful in his selection: if it was one the man hadn’t already scanned, Jongdae would be found out in seconds. But the ones close to the ship - maybe his partner had been loading them before he got sent away. Jongdae crouched low and skirted the edge of the dock, trying to stay hidden where possible until he reached a grouping of crates nearest the ship. He knelt down behind them, putting them between him and the two men. There was no way he’d be able to lift the lid without making enough noise to get their attention. And that didn’t even count the clang it would make against the metal dock if he tried to remove the lid entirely so he could get in.

Jongdae was about to risk running, either to the ship or back toward the city, when a gust of wind kicked up a cloud of sand. He scrunched his eyes shut against the assault. And then he realized there was one more thing he could do. Before the wind could have a chance to die down, he lifted the lid with his biotics, hoping the sand was enough to hide the blue glow of his power. The container was full of what looked to be dehydrated ration packs, and Jongdae haphazardly grabbed armful after armful and threw them off the docks into the desert below. He clambered in and dropped the lid as soundlessly as possible, panting hard. The whole thing had maybe taken thirty seconds, but he had to hope he had been fast enough.

After what felt like an eternity, he felt himself being lifted, carried, and then dropped down with a bang. He had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh out loud in disbelief. He’d fucking done it.

Now he just had to survive long enough to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mass Effect fans:  
> The main change I have made is that the characters are using thermal clips, despite the fact that they aren't introduced until the second game. Frankly, they just make for a better dramatic device.  
> I also took great liberties with expanding the existing turian religion.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/some-kind-of-chogiwonderful)


	2. Chapter 1

Jongdae didn’t know how much time had passed before he risked quietly cracking open the lid on the crate. He worried that the ship might have cameras, but he was starting to become lightheaded from the lack of oxygen inside the container. He hadn’t been in many enclosed spaces before, but he immediately knew he hated it. To say nothing of the cramps in his legs from having them curled for so long, there was something about it that made his teeth buzz, his jaw clench, the desire to pull a barrier around himself nearly a physical need. At least the blue glow was illuminating the small crate.

He was really starting to regret throwing away all of the ration packs. He was used to not eating much, but after all the adrenaline he had burned through earlier, he was starving. He wasn’t about to start rummaging through the other containers in the cargo bay, though; that was practically asking to get caught. He could live with being hungry.

He was beyond exhausted and he alternated between drifting off to sleep and waking a few moments later with a start and a gasp. He tried to plan what he would do when they docked - how he would get past the crew of the merc ship, and more dauntingly, where he would go, who he would have to be when he got away. His thoughts felt like they were going in slow motion and anytime he caught them and straightened them out, they would be filled with phrases that didn’t seem to belong there.

He fell asleep eventually, too weak to stop it.

Jongdae jolted awake to the loud clanking of heavy boots on the metal floor of the cargo bay. From inside the storage crate, he could hear the man from the spaceport talking, but he obviously still couldn’t understand him. Maybe this meant they had docked, or would be docking somewhere soon. If he could just stay hidden until they unloaded their cargo.

His whole body ached from sleeping cramped up in the crate. He didn’t have any idea how long he had been asleep, and it was possibly reasonable for him to think they might have landed. It had been long enough to develop a throbbing headache and for his gnawing hunger to fade to fatigue. At least he was used to the headaches as one of the side effects of his ‘talents’. He’d never thought he’d be grateful for it.

The footsteps were moving closer to his crate. He could hear them opening another container and start sorting through its contents, taking inventory. Which of course they would be. No merc crew was going to hand off merchandise without checking it first. How did he even think this was going to work?

Fuck, he was really going to die.

It was inevitable that they were going to discover him, and that knowledge felt like a rock in his stomach. It was better than being sent back to the Facility. Even dying in the belly of some merc ship was better than that.

There was a loud bang that rumbled through his crate as they opened the one right next to it. An overwhelming shot of adrenaline coursed through him, his sudden anger knocking the breath right out of him. Fuck if he was gonna lay down and die. He didn’t escape the first time, didn’t spend seven goddamn years enduring whatever shit Valern could through at him to just die now.

Before they could approach his crate, Jongdae used all of the strength he could muster to biotically throw the cover off of the top. A ship this size had to have an escape pod. If he could just block them long enough, run fast enough -

The sound of a shotgun cocking froze him to the spot.

A turian was standing over him, huge and imposing, mandibles clicking. He held the shotgun casually, one huge taloned finger toying with the trigger. He was saying something, but Jongdae just heard the deep, flanging rumbles that made up turian speech.

He had seen pictures of turians before, mostly propaganda left over from the war. The one in front of him really did look as alien as the flyers had depicted: at least six feet, hard scaly carapace, huge hands with only three thick fingers, and hawk-like eyes that made him appear every ounce of the predator species he was.

Pulling a barrier around himself barely required conscious thought.

And then, a human hand was on top of the shotgun, pushing it down, away from Jongdae’s face. Now that he could hear it properly, the human’s voice was high and soft and almost preternaturally calm as he admonished the turian.

The turian seemed annoyed - at least if rolling one’s eyes meant the same thing in turian culture - and moved away from the crate opening. The human from the docks moved to take his place.

He wasn’t a tall man - perhaps even shorter that Jongdae himself. He looked barely older, with full cheeks and a beatific smile, but his eyes were dark and sharp. He looked like a man who was always waiting for everyone around him to catch up. Jongdae expanded his barrier a bit more, pulling on what little energy he had left. For some reason, this beautiful man almost scared him more than the turian.

It took him a moment to register that the man was speaking to him over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Of course, he couldn’t understand him at all. The moment dragged on as Jongdae thought about how to answer him, his thoughts growing more sluggish the longer he held the barrier. But there was no way he was going to let it drop. The man was looking at him expectantly, the turian with the shotgun peering over his shoulder.

“Look,” Jongdae began, mouth dry and voice wrecked from dehydration. He tried to clear his throat, but it only made it burn worse. “Look,” he tried again, “I don’t speak - I don’t know what you’re saying, but - ”

He would have to choose his next words more carefully than he ever had before. Faced with the reality of the shotgun, having some heroic last stand was looking less and less appealing. There were a couple ways this could go down if he wanted to live through this. He could try for the sympathy angle - tell them he was a runaway, beg for his life. It wasn’t like it wasn’t the truth. He didn’t think it would fly with this pair though. The turian was almost definitely a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. And the man, well, he didn’t seem like the type to be swayed by a sob story. He could offer to pay his way. He obviously didn’t have money, but… He quickly dismissed that idea. Maybe the turian would go for it, but the human was the one in charge, and that kind of offer wouldn’t be enough. The human was shrewd, a true merc through and through, the kind of man who only cared about a payday.

There was only one way out of here, and Jongdae loathed it with his entire being. He was going to have to tell them about the Facility, about the people who would do just about anything to get their hands on biotics like him. And it was ironic that maybe twenty-four hours ago he was risking his life to run from the same bastards he was thinking about letting these mercs hand him off to. He had escaped before, hadn’t he? Not that he remembered much about how that had happened - just fire, flashing red lights, screaming, being shoved into some overcrowded space shuttle, then… just Valern and its dusty streets. He didn’t know if the Facility even existed still. But there were always people looking to exploit power. If the Suns thought he was worth something, he probably was. Besides, he was smarter now, maybe even more powerful, and he could escape again. He was not going to die here, shot in the face by some turian. The one thing he was terrified of might be the thing that saved him.

“I’m a biotic,” he said, like it wasn’t made completely obvious by the barrier. “And there are these scientists; they wanna run tests on me and shit, ‘cause, you know, we’re pretty rare and all. And they’ll pay. I’m worth like an insane amount of money to the right people, so..”

The human and the turian showed no signs that they were intrigued by what he had to say. Maybe they didn’t believe him.

“I swear it’s true. They aren’t gonna pay up if I’m dead.”

The turian looked over at the human, obviously deferring to him. The human cocked his head to the side and stared at Jongdae impassively.

He wasn’t going to beg. He wanted to, but it wasn’t going to make any difference if he did. He screwed his eyes shut and wondered how many shotgun blasts his barrier could withstand until one made it through.

“Only English?” the human asked in English.

Jongdae practically deflated as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The human wanted to talk, and talking was a lot better than getting shot. “Um, yeah,” Jongdae said, “only English.”

The human said something to the turian in his native language, eyes never leaving Jongdae. The turian initially seemed to protest before walking away climbing up a flight of stairs that must lead to the rest of the ship.

“Do you - ” The man cut himself off and mumbled something to himself. “My English - ” He waved his hand to fill the gap in his words. “You...come out?” He mimed Jongdae leaving the crate with a small precise hand motion. It was definitely phrased it as a question though. He was tiptoeing around Jongdae like Jongdae was a frightened puppy backed into a corner. Jongdae supposed that that was rather accurate, given the situation. 

“No,” Jongdae said, more forcefully that he’d meant to. This man, even if he hadn’t tried to kill hm yet, definitely could at any time. The last thing he needed to do was give him a reason. Besides, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to climb out of the crate and maintain a full-body barrier. The barrier was already flickering around him, and he grit his teeth as he pushed it out again.

The human seemed to take Jongdae’s refusal in stride. He disappeared for a brief minute, and Jongdae heard the scrape of metal on metal. The man head pulled over the crate nearest his and sat down on it. From this new angle, the man loomed over Jongdae, and Jongdae could now see the pistol attached to his hip. Even if he wasn’t using it, everything about this man screamed that he wouldn’t hesitate, that his kindness and patience were courtesies he could retract at any moment. Jongdae changed his mind; he was definitely more dangerous than his turian friend.

But, in a way, that could be a good thing, because this man didn’t seem stupid. And a smart merc, or pirate, or whatever kind of ship he had stumbled on wouldn’t kill what they could sell. Jongdae just have to convince him he was worth it.

“Kim Minseok,” the man said suddenly.

“Huh?” Jongdae mumbled. It was getting harder and harder to focus.

“Kim Minseok,” the man said again, enunciating slowly and pointing to himself. “You are?”

Jongdae considered lying or even refusing, but that reaction was more out of habit than anything else. He had already sold himself out, his name wouldn’t make it any worse.

“Jongdae. I’m Jongdae.”

Minseok had more of a reaction to that than anything else since he had discovered Jongdae. He sat up a bit straighter on his crate so he could get a better look at Jongdae.

“Ah, Korean name. But, you do not speak?”

And that made sense. Minseok was a Korean name, too, wasn’t it? His English was accented the same way Sehun’s had been, though Minseok’s accent was much stronger. Sehun had been the one to give him his name in the first place - found it in a tattered book of Korean baby names while they had laid on the dirty cot they had shared. Sehun had said Jongdae looked Korean, but Jongdae had no way of knowing if that was true, or just Sehun’s wishful thinking. Subjects didn’t have access to that kind of information. But Jongdae had agreed quickly; “JD” reminded him too much of the Facility.

Jongdae didn’t know what to say, and he definitely wasn’t going to tell some stranger about Sehun. He filled the silence with a small shrug, the barrier rippling as he moved.

Minseok, again, didn’t seem bothered by Jongdae’s lack of response. In fact, he seemed content to just sit in silence and observe Jongdae, his gaze assessing but perhaps a bit less cold than it had been before. With the language barrier between them, the communication was essentially one-sided, and Jongdae didn’t like the idea of talking into the void and hoping that Minseok could be persuaded.

Minseok kept looking at him even as the sound of the turian’s boots on the stairs announced his return. As he crossed the cargo hold, he tossed something metal and shiny to Minseok, who caught it deftly in one hand. Minseok held out the item in an open palm, tilted it down so that Jongdae could see that it was an omni-tool bracelet with attached earpiece. No wonder Minseok was willing to be patient. It was an encouraging sign that even at this point, Minseok clearly wanted to talk. If he were planning to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered getting him the tech that would allow them to communicate, right?

Jongdae realized that he was going to have to lower his barrier in order to get the omni-tool. Maybe this was a trick to get him to take it down in the first place. He shoved that thought away quickly. It wouldn’t help him much even if it were the case, and the whole thing seemed way too convoluted just to kill him. He wasn’t strong enough to hold off more than a few bullets and they had to know that. Still, he didn’t want Minseok or the turian to come any closer than they already were.

Minseok was still holding out the omni-tool. “For you,” he clarified as though Jongdae didn’t realize that.

“I want to talk,” Jongdae said. “I promise I do, but - ” His eyes flitted to the turian, still holding that damn shotgun. “No guns. Just drop it in and stay back.”

He expected the two of them to protest, but the turian shrugged and holstered his shotgun as though he hadn’t been gung-ho about shooting Jongdae ten minutes ago. Minseok nodded with a small smile on his face. He seemed to find Jongdae’s paranoia amusing. It wasn’t like Jongdae was in the position to make demands here, but Minseok was willing to indulge him.

Minseok let the bracelet fall into the crate with a small tip of his hand. Jongdae released the barrier just long enough for the omni-tool to fall into his lap. The barrier was really starting to flicker now and his headache was worsening, throbbing hard behind his right eye. He tried to ignore it as he clipped the bracelet around his left wrist and inserted the earpieces. The bracelet popped up a glowing orange HUD as it calibrated.

After watching the omni-tool boot up, Minseok said, “Well, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“I still think we should airlock him,” the turian said. The translated voice sounded nothing like Jongdae would have expected, higher and lilting where he would have thought it to be low and gruff. His voice didn’t make him less threatening, however; he looked positively gleeful about the prospect of shooting Jongdae out into space.

“We’re not airlocking anyone, Luhan,” Minseok said, and it seemed like this was something he’d had to tell the turian before.

The turian, Luhan, grunted. “Well, don’t look at me when Yifan chews your ass out.” Luhan plopped down on the crate next to Minseok, leaning his head on his shoulder and dwarfing the small man. “I didn’t even know your kind made biotics, Minnie.”

“Neither did I,” Minseok mused. He still hadn’t stopped examining Jongdae intently. 

The words made Jongdae freeze, his eyes growing wide. Sure, he knew biotics were rare - he’d never met any besides the other kids at the Facility - but he had figured there would be others out there, maybe serving in the military or working as mercenaries. Maybe some of them even had normal jobs and families. Maybe there were places biotics could live as themselves without fear of being kidnapped or experimented on. But Minseok, this worldly merc, was looking at him like he was some great curiosity. Plenty of other species had biotics; asari were all biotics as far as he had heard, but if human biotics were unheard of...Well, now he knew why he was worth so much, why he would always be. These might not be any safe place for him, no matter how far he ran.

“I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” It wasn’t a question and Jongdae said it more to himself than to Minseok.

“Only one I’ve ever heard of,” Minseok replied. His tone was harsher than Jongdae had heard it, almost the same as it had been when he had threatened the Blue Suns member at the dock; the indulgent and polite man was gone almost completely. “So now you see why I’m interested in how a human biotic ends up stowed away on my ship. Hard to believe such valuable cargo would deliver itself right into our hands.”

Minseok suspected him of something, not that Jongdae could figure out for the life of him what that might be. His vision was starting to blur around the edges. Maybe Minseok thought Jongdae had chosen their ship specifically, wanted something more than just safe passage to somewhere, anywhere else. He had to convince Minseok. Minseok had to believe him.

“I’m not lying,” Jongdae stuttered out, “I swear I’m not.” His head hurt so damn much. “I just...You have to…” 

The last thing he heard was Minseok calling his name before he passed out.

Jongdae woke up with a tube in his arm. Well, at least that meant Luhan hadn’t shot him while he’d been unconscious. He wondered how long it had taken Minseok to find the people who were after him and how much Minseok and Luhan had gotten paid for it. He scoffed lightly. At least he’d gotten Minseok to believe him in the end.

He opened his eyes slowly to ward against the bright lights of the med bay. He scooted up the bed a bit, wincing as he stretched out his stiff neck and back. Besides his sore muscles, he was feeling better than he had been in the crate; his headache had lessened and he was no longer dizzy. Maybe the scientists had taken pity on him and had given him painkillers before they hooked him up to the machines.

This med bay was smaller than the one at the Facility had been, with only two beds in the room. Maybe the Facility had had to downgrade after the attack. Jongdae hoped so; it would make it easier to escape.

The first thing he needed to do was get whatever they were pumping him full of out of his arm and out of his system. It was probably some kind of sedative, something to make him sluggish and docile, unable to fight back while they did their work on him. In some ways, that was a kindness. The Facility had preferred restraints. That, he remembered.

He peeled back the tape on his arm, preparing to pull the needle out when a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Jongdae’s head snapped up, looking away from his arm to see a turian leaning against the door to his left. For a second, he thought it was Luhan, but this turian was about a head shorter and had white markings on the sides of his face unlike the two red lines Luhan had had under his eyes. He hadn’t expected any of the scientists to be turian, not with tensions between humans and turians being what they were, even ten years after the war. But maybe the people who had acquired him now weren’t leftovers from the Facility at all. Maybe this time it was turians trying to figure out human biotics in case war ever broke out again. The thought wasn’t a comforting one.

“You’re still very dehydrated.” The turian approached Jongdae’s bed. Jongdae sat up a bit more, trying to put as much distance between himself and the turian. His hands glowed blue for a moment, but he was too weak to even think about a barrier.

The turian ignored Jongdae’s reaction to him. Instead, he opened the HUD of his omni-tool and typed quickly into its glowing orange keyboard before turning his hand over to scan down the length of Jongdae’s body.

Realization struck Jongdae, and he looked down at his own wrist. He still had the omni-tool bracelet on. Of course he did; he could understand this new turian. But why? Why would Minseok have left it with him and why wouldn’t the scientists have taken it from him after the hand-off.

“I don’t know what Minseok was thinking, trying to interrogate you,” the turian muttered as he inspected the results of the scan on a monitor to the right of Jongdae’s bed. “Not like he got his answers while you were unconscious.”

Minseok? This turian spoke like he knew him. But that would mean - 

“I’m still on the ship,” Jongdae said, surprised.

The turian huffed, still scrolling through the results. “Don’t worry. No one was actually going to let Luhan airlock you. Yifan would have thrown a fit.”

Yifan. Jongdae had heard that name before. Luhan had said it, told Minseok that Yifan would chew his ass out for not letting Luhan airlock him, in fact. Now this turian was saying Yifan would have been completely against the idea. Jongdae wondered who was closer to the truth. For his own sake, he hoped it was this new turian; it was growing increasingly obvious that this Yifan was the one who was really in charge of this operation.

The sound of electronic doors sliding open came from behind the turian. The scientist was blocking his view, but it was clear someone had entered the hospital room. The turian doctor didn’t turn to look at the newcomer, still examining Jongdae’s test results. Jongdae could have turned, could have craned around the turian to get a better look, but he didn’t, staring resolutely forward. He would find out who it was soon enough, and he didn’t want to seem eager to start another interrogation.

“Yixing,” the newcomer said from the doorway after a moment of observing the pair. His voice was so deep that Jongdae could swear he felt the vibrations running through him.

“Are you absolutely sure you need to do this now?” Yixing asked. “I’d like him to rest for a bit longer.” After getting no response, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t push him too hard. You know where to find me.” And with that, he brushed past the turian in the doorway. The doors snapped shut behind him.

Now Jongdae was alone with the most massive turian he had seen yet. The turian had to be almost seven feet tall with hands that were probably the size of Jongdae’s whole face. He had blue markings that came down the bridge of his flat nose and flared out over his cheek. His expression was purposefully closed off, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes cold as he assessed Jongdae. Jongdae could practically feel the weight of them drag down his body. He shivered.

But it wasn’t just this turian’s physical appearance that held Jongdae stock still in the hospital bed. He gave off a powerful presence, an aura of command that seemed to fill every nook of the med bay. He was someone even a hardened merc like Minseok would deem worthy of respect, and Jongdae knew that there was no way this turian would accept anything but the truth from him.

The turian moved from the doorway and grabbed a rolling chair from in front of the perfectly organized desk across from the foot of Jongdae’s bed. He rolled it to Jongdae’s bedside, but left about three feet of space between himself and Jongdae. The chair seemed far too small for his huge frame, but the turian looked in his element nonetheless. Jongdae couldn’t help but notice that he had placed himself directly between Jongdae and the doors.

“I’m Captain Yifan Wu,” the turian said finally. “And, somehow, Jongdae, you’re on my ship.”

Jongdae didn’t wonder how it was that Yifan knew his name - figured Minseok must have told him - but the use of it in that deep voice gave him goosebumps.

He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

The needle was cold in his arm, and he trembled as though he could feel the fluid pouring in. Yixing had said it was only to hydrate him, but he had no reason to believe him. True, he didn’t feel like he was being sedated, but that didn’t mean that whatever was now in his veins was safe. At least it was only the one. At least he hadn’t had to see the blood when Yixing had put it in.

His hand twitched toward his arm, longing to just rip the tape off and take the needle out. Yifan was watching his indecision with interest, and his gaze was making Jongdae feel even more trapped. He was pinned down as effectively by this tiny piece of metal as he would be by a leather strap. He was on tenterhooks, waiting for the pain he knew was coming, the bright lights in his eyes, needles drawing blood again and again.

“I need to take this out.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It felt like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

He looked up at Yifan, whose head snapped into position as they made eye contact for the first time since he’d entered the room.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, if you just let me take this out.” He knew it was in his head, but the skin around his needle burned. He grit his teeth. “Please,” he said. He couldn’t look Yifan in the eyes as he said it.

Yifan seemed to be considering his request. “Will you let Yixing put it back in when we’re done?”

Jongdae hated the idea of letting anyone stab him with anything, but if he agreed, he could take it out now. If this chat with Yifan didn’t go his way, well, maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about it going back in.

“I’ll let him,” Jongdae said.

“Okay.”

Yifan reached out as though to help him with the tape and Jongdae flinched backwards. Yifan held up his hands placatingly and sat back in the chair.

Jongdae made quick work of the tape holding the needle in and pulled the needle out with a grimace. He rubbed his hand over the site, a few drops of blood staining his palm. Yifan was looking at him, waiting for him to be ready.

“Okay. I’m...I’m okay, um, ready, or…” He wasn’t quite sure how to start, what Yifan wanted him to say.

“So, Minseok has a theory that you’re a spy. Saboteur, maybe,” Yifan said. Jongdae didn’t expect him to be quite so direct. If he thought that Jongdae was a spy, why bother questioning him? Just to find out who he might be working for? He assumed most spies would take that information to the grave. Then again, maybe most spies hadn’t met anyone as intimidating as Yifan before.

But there was something about Yifan that Jongdae couldn’t quite place. Because he should be begging for his life, offering anything and everything he had, but instead he felt an odd sense of calm wash over him. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten the needle out. Or maybe it was because Yifan had let him.

Either way, there was something in Yifan’s presence that made Jongdae want to rise up and meet him at his level. He tilted his chin up and looked Yifan dead in the eyes. “And do you think that?”

If Yifan was surprised by Jongdae’s change in attitude, he didn’t show it. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Jongdae let a long tense moment pass as he waited for Yifan’s evaluation, but soon realized it wasn’t coming. “I’m guessing Minseok told you the rest of it, right?”

“What little there was to tell,” Yifan said. “But I still don’t know who you are and why you’re on my ship.”

“I was running away; I just picked your ship ‘cause it was the first one I saw,” Jongdae admitted. It seemed inevitable that Yifan would find everything out one way or another.

“Running away from whom?” Yifan still seemed skeptical even in light of Jongdae’s cooperation.

“The Blue Suns. They found out who, um, what I am and figured they’d get a good payday out of it, you know? Um, anyhow, their loss is your gain, right?”

“Minseok mentioned something like that. A group of clandestine scientists looking to study biotics. Doesn’t that seem far-fetched to you?” Yifan leaned forward as he asked, his chin resting on his huge hand. Everything about his body language appeared casual, as though he were trying to relax Jongdae, get him to tell him the real truth. The problem there was that Jongdae already was.

“I promise they’re out there. I don’t know how to contact them, but if the Suns can find them you can too.”

“How can you be so sure, though?”

“Because… Because they had me before, okay?”

And there it was. Yifan sat back up in his chair again, eyes roving Jongdae’s body as though they could see what the Facility’s scientist had. Jongdae looked down at his hands where they rested in his lap. It didn’t help. He could still feel Yifan’s eyes on him, and he wilted under the scrutiny. He had never said it out loud before, not even to Sehun, and the thought of that nauseated him, as though it physically cost him to put the experience into words. Somehow, it made everything finally so real for him - the broken flashes of memories and the knowledge that he was going back to a place that had only ever existed in his past and in his nightmares. His eyes burned with the threat of tears and he blinked them away quickly. He refused to let Yifan see him break down. There wasn’t any point to it anyways. This was happening.

“Then tell me about these scientists. What did they want? Where are they located? Are they with the Alliance?” Yifan asked, rapid-fire.

“I…” Jongdae began shakily, but no words would follow. It wasn’t like he knew. He almost wished he did. At least then he would know what he was in for. But the questions only served to highlight the gaps in his memories, blow the whole thing up to monstrous proportions, make it so the fear was all he could focus on. His hands were shaking in his lap. “Look, I don’t remember much about that shit, okay? Can we just - does it even matter?” He hazarded a glance at Yifan and was surprised to see that his expression was soft, maybe even sympathetic - nothing like the way he had been when he first came into the room.

There was something else he could try. Something he hadn’t dared try with Minseok and Luhan. But Yifan - he was different from them. He’d even been kind. Maybe it would work. It might not even be that bad. It wasn’t like he’d never done it before.

He shifted so that his legs were now hanging off the side of the bed, mud-caked boots hovering above the floor. “Maybe,” he started, weak and crackly, and that wouldn’t work at all. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we can work something else out?”

If Yifan understood what he was saying, he wasn’t showing it. Jongdae hated being obvious, hated the knot of shame he felt in his stomach, but he pushed it aside. It was a small price to pay for his freedom after all. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you could forget you saw me at all. You could just drop me off somewhere and nobody would have to know.”

Jongdae slipped down to his knees. The floor was hard and cold beneath him. It was almost natural for him to reach out and place his hand on Yifan’s thigh, slowly moving upwards. 

“I could make it worth your time,” he said, voice pitched low, and it was though he had never stopped. 

Yifan pushed back in the rolling chair as though Jongdae’s touch had burned him. He stood quickly and turned away from Jongdae, rubbing his hand over the hard fringe that covered the top of his head. “Jongdae, I - how can - absolutely not.” He sounded completely horrified.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Jongdae muttered. He should have felt relieved - and he did - but for some reason the rejection stung. It was probably just because he wasn’t going to get out of going back to the Facility, but the look on Yifan’s face, like Jongdae had suggested something disgusting...He didn’t know why he was letting it affect him. 

Jongdae was still kneeling on the floor; he hadn’t found the wherewithal to stand up yet. Yifan turned back around to look down at him. Jongdae had never felt smaller in his life. And then Yifan was reaching out his hand and Jongdae was taking it out of reflex. Yifan helped Jongdae to his feet as though he weighed nothing. Yifan looked into Jongdae’s eyes and Jongdae did the same, just for a moment, before looking away again.

“No one’s selling you, Jongdae,” he said, soft and slow, like he was calling Jongdae out of a dream. “I’m sorry I let you think that for so long.” He shook his head slightly, and his voice returned to normal. “This isn’t a mercenary ship. We’re turian military.”

Turian military. Yifan said that as though Jongdae should be reassured, but Jongdae knew even less of what that would mean for him than if they had been mercenaries. All he knew about the Turian Hierarchy came from human propaganda. They were said to be dogmatic, disciplined to a fault. They believed in total war and wouldn’t hesitate to take out civilian targets. Hadn’t they starved out a whole human colony during the First Contact War? According to everything he’d heard, they were nothing less than ruthless. And even though he guessed some of the stories were exaggerated, they had to be formed from a grain of truth.

“So what are you gonna do? Lock me up?” Jongdae asked. Being locked up might even be worse than being cooped in the medical bay. At least here people talked to him. To be alone in the cold with nothing but metal bars and his own thoughts…He was unconsciously rubbing his hand over the needle site again. He quickly let his arms drop to his sides.

“Not if I don’t have to,” Yifan said. “We don’t have time to drop you off anywhere right now, but when we’re through with our mission, I promise, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

He said it with such fervor, Jongdae couldn’t help but believe him. A new life, anywhere he asked - there had to be a catch somewhere. But Yifan didn’t want money, didn’t want him, so what was it?

“Why? I mean, I’m a total stranger. I stowed away on your ship.”

Yifan hesitated and then purposefully avoided answering him. “You being here, we can handle it in one of two ways. I could lock you up in the brig, like you said. But I’m not inclined to do that. You can’t stay here in the med bay the whole time either. We run a small crew, and I can’t have anyone step away from their duties to look after you here. But you could - provisionally, obviously - help out some of my crew with their work around the ship for the rest of the mission.”

Earn his keep? Well, if that was the catch, Jongdae wouldn’t complain. It seemed too good to be true, to be honest. He wanted again to ask Yifan why, but Yifan wasn’t looking at him, probably wouldn’t answer it anyway. Yifan was typing something into his omni-tool, his two fingers flying over the display.

“So, you’re cool with me just wandering all over your ship?” Jongdae asked. Maybe he was testing him a little, see if there were any indications that Yifan wasn’t telling him the truth.

“Of course not. This still an active military vessel. You’d be supervised at all times. And there would be several areas of the ship that would be off-limits to you without my explicit permission. If it doesn’t work out, you can wait it out in the brig. Besides” - Yifan looked up and smiled, showing off razor-sharp teeth - “biotic or not, any member of my team could take you down if need be.”

Yifan said it casually, but Jongdae knew better than to take him lightly. Whoever these people were, Jongdae had trouble believing they could make good on Yifan’s threat. Under any other circumstances, he might have been afraid, but Yifan didn’t seem like the type to go back on his word, and Jongdae had no intention of stepping out of line.

“Okay,” he said, trying not to seem too eager. “I’ll help out, or whatever.”

“Good,” Yifan said as though he really meant it. “Yixing’s going to want to look you over some more, I think. Said you were in pretty bad shape when you came in.” 

Jongdae shrugged. He didn’t really have a good answer to that other than supposing he probably had been. Wasn’t like he hadn’t been through worse.

“I’m going to go tell him you’re ready for him.” Yifan paused. “Unless you’d like some more time to rest?”

Jongdae looked down and scuffed his boot on the floor. It squeaked awkwardly in the silence of the room. Yifan was looking at him with clear concern, which felt really weird. He wasn’t used to anyone looking at him like that. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Mostly he just wanted Yifan to look away.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said quietly. He didn’t really want Yixing to come back and run tests right now, but he also didn’t want Yifan to think he needed to be coddled, that he was weak. Besides, if he had to deal with any more medical shit anyways, he’d rather just get it over with.

Yifan looked at him for another long moment before making a little noise under his breath, too quiet for Jongdae to know if it was a word or not. “Okay,” he said louder. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You can, um, you can wait here.”

And with that, he quickly turned and went back through the doors that led to the rest of the ship. 

Jongdae sat back down on the bed and wondered what that was all about. He didn’t know why he cared - he was going to be free after this. Maybe turians were just weird.

He leaned back on the pillow and finally let himself smile.

Luckily, Yixing didn’t keep Jongdae waiting for very long. While he was alone, he fiddled with his omni-tool. The controls were fairly intuitive, even for someone who had never used one before. He managed to get onto the Extranet’s search page within a couple of minutes. He stared at the blinking cursor for a moment before typing ‘Oh Sehun’ into the search bar. He couldn’t bring himself to press enter though. He was better off not knowing. There probably wouldn’t be any information for him to find anyways.

Jongdae startled a bit when Yixing bustled back through the doors, quickly closing the display on his omni-tool.

“So, Yifan’s decided you’re staying? Good.” Yixing grabbed a tablet off of his desk. “Besides the dehydration, you’re quite malnourished, and I’d like to see what we can do to correct that.”

Yixing came back to Jongdae’s bedside to compare what was on his tablet with the monitor. He frowned slightly and then looked down to where the needle was hanging listlessly from the plastic tubing, a small puddle of fluids forming on the floor underneath it.

“You can - I told Yifan I’d let you put it back in, so - ” Jongdae held out his arm to Yixing and looked away.

He expected to feel the prick of the needle, but it didn’t come.

“How about first we get you a shower, maybe something to eat?” Yixing asked.

Jongdae felt himself flush. He was sure he must smell terrible after running and being in the crate. He only had one set of clothes and they were stained and dusty from years of use. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been truly clean. 

He had already dirtied the pristine white sheets of the hospital bed just by sitting on them. If Yixing was as organized as his desk suggested, Jongdae’s state must have been a nightmare for him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He was glad Yixing wasn’t looking at him.

Yixing didn’t acknowledge his apology. He simply set the tablet back down on his desk and beckoned for Jongdae to get out of bed. “I’ll show you where to go.”

Jongdae followed Yixing out of the set of doors into a compact mess hall. He half-expected Yifan, Luhan, and Minseok to be sitting there waiting for him, but the room was empty. They all had better things to do than make a spectacle of him.

Yixing led him around the corner to a bathroom. He followed Jongdae in before hovering in the doorway, seeming to think better of it. “I’ll be waiting for you out in the mess when you’re done.” He paused. “Please don’t try to go anywhere else, okay?” He let the door shut behind him as he left.

Jongdae kicked off his boots and pulled his threadbare sweatshirt off over his head. His pants stuck to his legs with sweat and dirt. He glanced over his shoulder thinking Yixing might have come back, that there might be someone watching him, but of course he was alone. He turned the water on, not paying much mind to the temperature, and stepped into the shower.

The water was warm. He couldn’t remember ever taking a warm shower before. He wanted to luxuriate under the spray until Yixing came back to get him, but Jongdae knew he wouldn’t let himself do that. He tightened his arms around his body; without his clothes, he felt too small. He was never naked. On the rare occasions he had been able to bathe, he did so piecemeal - top first, then rushing as he cleaned himself below with his sweatshirt back on, hiding as much as possible from view. He hadn’t even gotten naked when he was working, taking off only as much as he needed to get the job done. Jongdae decided he didn’t like the feeling.

He washed himself quickly and thoroughly, watching as the dirt from his body stained the water around his ankles brown. He did take the time to work through his matted hair, untangling the knots with aggressive pulls, not caring that it stung his scalp to do so.

There was a set of clothes placed in a neat pile next to a towel balanced on the edge of the sink. Yixing must have put them out for him earlier. Jongdae was grateful to not have to wear his old clothes again. They were probably better off going straight into the incinerator. He pulled on the black sweatpants and hoodie as soon as he was reasonably dry. The clothes were obviously Minseok’s, and Jongdae wondered how he felt about sharing with him.

Jongdae wiped steam off of the mirror with the sleeve of his hoodie It had been awhile since he had seen himself. His face was gaunt, his cheekbones looking even more prominent than usual. He shoved his hair out of his eyes, wishing he could cut it, but he doubted anyone would be willing to give him a pair of scissors.

Yixing hadn’t given him any shoes, but Jongdae didn’t think he should put his boots back on in their current condition. He bundled his old clothes in his arms and carried them out into the mess, not wanting to just leave them in the bathroom. When he got out to the mess, Yixing was sitting at the table reading something on his tablet, a tray of food sitting across from him.

“That was fast.” Yixing looked up at Jongdae and the clothes he was holding. “Here let me get rid of those for you.” He stood up and took the clothes out of Jongdae’s arms, but hesitated. “Unless you’d like them back that is.”

A part of him wanted to tell Yixing that he’d keep the clothes - they were pretty much the only thing he had now, the only thing he had ever owned really - but there wasn’t any point to it. He didn’t need to hold onto trash.

“Nah, it’s cool.”

Yixing didn’t let the moment turn awkward. “Please eat.” He motioned to the tray on the table. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Jongdae sat down on the bench while Yixing headed back into his lab. He was ravenous, days of fasting catching up to him all at once. He wanted to shovel the food into his mouth, but he forced himself to eat slowly. For some reason, he didn’t want to look desperate in front of any of the crew members. He didn’t want them to see something they could use against him later.

“You’re lucky Minseok’s here,” Yixing said as he came back. “We wouldn’t have any levo food on the ship otherwise.” Seeing Jongdae’s confusion, Yixing explained, “Humans and turians process proteins differently. Your bodies can’t break down dextro-amino acids the way ours do.”

Jongdae nodded as though he understood and then went back to eating. He was so hungry that he was barely paying attention to the taste, but it was definitely better than anything he’d had on Valern.

Yixing seemed content to watch him eat. When Jongdae had scraped the last bit of food from the bottom of the tray, Yixing grabbed it and carried it to a small galley kitchen in the corner, washing it in the metal sink. Jongdae sat at the table awkwardly. He felt like he should be saying something but he didn’t know what. After Yixing finished, he came back to the table, but hovered by the edge of the bench instead of sitting down.

“I’d like your permission to take some blood samples and run some tests, if that’s alright with you,” he said.

His permission? If Yixing had wanted his blood, why didn’t he just take it while he was unconscious and run all the tests he’d liked? What did it matter what Jongdae thought about it? It’s not like he could really say no. Yixing was just gonna take it anyways.

Jongdae shrugged, rubbing his finger over a scratch in the table. “Not really up to me, right?”

Yixing pursed his lips together. “I don’t make a habit of ignoring my patients’ consent.”

The sentiment was nice but it wasn’t like Jongdae was in any position to refuse. Besides he probably needed some kind of medical attention. So as much as he hated it, he said, “Yeah, you can do whatever.”

“Excellent,” Yixing said, picking his tablet up off of the table and heading back toward the med bay. Jongdae followed. 

Yixing had replaced the dirty sheets on Jongdae’s bed and had cleaned up the fluids on the floor. Without prompting, Jongdae climbed back onto the bed. He figured this was where YIxing needed him to be.

Yixing opened a cabinet near the other bed and rummaged around for a moment. When he stood up, he was holding a needle kit and several small vials. Jongdae focused on slowing down his breathing.

“Sit up a bit more for me,” Yixing said as he set up near Jongdae’s bedside. “Good. I just need- ” He held Jongdae’s arm in a gentle grip. “Perfect.”

Jongdae was surprised that a turian’s hands could manipulate something as small and as thin as the needle Yixing was using, but Yixing handled it expertly, the initial prick nothing more than a quick sting. Jongdae watched as his blood filled the first tube. He wondered what Yixing wanted to test.

“To be honest,” Yixing said, “I’m not surprised Yifan’s letting you stay. He’s always had a habit of picking up strays.” Though Yixing’s tone was as brisk as it had been any other time he had spoken to Jongdae, he was smiling fondly.

Jongdae was grateful for something other than the blood draw to focus on. “Like Minseok?” There was really no other explanation as to why a human would be serving on a Turian military ship.

Yixing laughed as he stoppered a vial. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” He lined up the final vial. “We all are in some ways, I suppose. Yifan is a good man, a good captain. Whatever might have happened to - ” Yixing cut himself off. He stood and took the vials to some kind of machine.

“So, you’ve met most of the crew, right?” Yixing asked as though he hadn’t stopped talking. “There’s me. I’m the ship’s doctor, obviously. And there’s Yifan. And Minseok and Luhan. I’d say Luhan’s not always like that, but, well… Anyhow, Minseok is the ship’s X.O. and Luhan’s the mechanic. I mean, that’s simplifying a bit, but we all wear a lot of hats.” He pressed a few buttons on the machine and noted something down on his tablet. “Zitao, well, you’ll see when you meet him. I promise he’s nicer than he seems, at least.

“Your results are better than they were when you came in, but I’d still prefer to hydrate you. Can I ask that you don’t remove it this time?”

Jongdae looked away guiltily. As much as he didn’t want the tube back in, he knew he probably needed it. He still felt weak and a bit dizzy. And Yixing had been kind to him so far. He could get through one night of it.

Yixing was still waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, sure,” he said and forced himself to sit perfectly still as Yixing hooked him back up to the IV drip. 

Yixing ran his omni-tool scanner down the length of Jongdae’s body once again. He let out a little hum at the results and then moved the scanner uncomfortably close to Jongdae’s face, scanning over the top of his head to the base of his skull.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Yixing began. “It’s just that I’ve never met a human biotic before. Minseok said you maintained a barrier for nearly fifteen minutes even as weak as you were. Is that typical for your species?”

That was something Jongdae really didn’t want to talk about. Jongdae had no idea how his biotics worked other than the fact that they did, and sometimes that using them felt as natural as using his arms. He didn’t know if that was something that had been drilled into him at the Facility, or if that was just a part of being him. He didn’t have anything to compare his own power to. Sure, there were other kids at the Facility, but he could hardly remember them at all, much less whether they were stronger than he was. “I don’t know,” he ended up saying, hoping Yixing would leave it at that.

He didn’t. “Ah. Well, is there anything you can tell me about your implant. It seems, well, for lack of a better word, primitive, and yet… Have you always had it?”

The only thing Jongdae knew about his implant was pain and a small scar above his left ear. They had placed it shortly before he had ended up on Valern; he was about to transition to the Senior Division, and all the SD kids had theirs. It gave them an edge, supposedly, made their biotics easier to focus. How old would he have been? Eleven, twelve? The same age Sehun had been when he found Jongdae dying on Valern, as much of a kid as anyone could be there.

“Do you - how old am I?” Jongdae asked quietly. “Can you tell from your scans, or…” 

Yixing was looking at him with unmistakable pity. Jongdae’s mouth felt dry and his stomach felt like he had swallowed a rock. “Sorry, it’s not - just forget it.” He flushed and busied himself with folding the corner of his hospital blanket.

“It’s not exact,” Yixing said in almost a whisper, as though if he didn’t Jongdae would try to stop him. “But I’d guess eighteen, maybe nineteen, taking into account everything you’ve been through.”

Jongdae nodded. He had guessed, tried to count the years on Valern, but it was good to have something more definitive. “Um,” Jongdae tried to keep his voice from wobbling. “Then I was twelve - when I got the implant that is.”

“The onset of puberty. That makes sense,” Yixing said, tapping a few keys on his omni-tool. Jongdae didn’t know if he was actually taking notes of it he was using a business-like approach to give Jongdae a moment to collect himself. “You have a long way to go until you’re as old as me, so don’t worry. And Yifan? Yifan’s practically ancient,” he joked, putting on an exaggerated conspiratorial tone.

Jongdae offered him a half-smile. He was suddenly very tired. His eyelids were growing heavier and he was slumping further back into the pillows. He didn’t want to have to think about this anymore.

“I’m sorry; you’re obviously exhausted, “ Yixing said. Jongdae hoped that that meant he’d stop asking him questions. Trying to parse everything was making his head swim. He’d rather it all stay buried.

“You should rest now.” Yixing tapped a few buttons on his omni-tool and Jongdae’s glowed for just a second before fading again. “I’ll be just behind those doors.” He indicated the doors on Jongdae’s left that he’d first emerged from. “I’ve added my personal contact number to your omni-tool. Just in case.”

Yixing didn’t say anything else as he shut off the lights and left Jongdae alone in the med bay. He hoped he was tired enough to sleep here, surrounded by the machines and the smell of chemicals.

Maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn’t even dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/some-kind-of-chogiwonderful)


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief trigger warning for the implied past death of a child.

Jongdae slept fitfully. He woke up every few hours, laying on his back, his body rigid, while he eyes flitted around the total darkness of the med bay, trying to place where he was. Then he would realize that he was on the turian ship, that no one was coming for him, and he would let himself go limp and wait for sleep to come once again. He had trained himself a long time ago to wake up completely silently, no matter what the nightmares brought. On Valern, he didn’t want to bring that kind of attention to himself, but it felt like a habit he’d formed long before he made it to the mining planet.

This time when he opened his eyes, the room was illuminated by the soft light of a lamp on Yixing’s desk. The turian was nowhere to be seen. It took less time for him to get his bearings than it had during the night, but his breathing still sped up and his heart raced for the brief moment he thought he was back in the Facility.

He didn’t know if he should wait for Yixing to come back; he was still hooked up to the IV. He debated using the personal contact number Yixing had given him the night before, but something held him back. Maybe he didn’t want to bother him if he was working or maybe he just wasn’t sure if he trusted Yixing.

He really didn’t want to stay in the med bay any longer than he had to. It probably wouldn’t be a big deal if he waited out in the mess for Yixing, or, well, anybody to come and fetch him. Being in the med bay alone was even worse than it had been when he had company, maybe worse than Yixing administering the blood draw. There was something about the hum of the room that put him on edge. It was like anything could happen and that he’d be powerless to stop it.

Gently, he pulled back the tape around his IV needle. He had promised Yixing that he would keep it in, but the bag was nearly empty, so that was probably good enough. When he got out of bed, he noticed a pair of slip-on sneakers near the bed. He wondered who had left them there for him, and when, because they hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep the night before. He was surprised he hadn’t woken up when they came in. He put the shoes on. They were a bit small for him, but he’d had far worse as far as that went. Plus, it was better than going barefoot on the cold floor of the ship.

The mess wasn’t empty. Minseok was in the galley kitchen, seemingly absorbed in the task of chopping vegetables. A pot was simmering on the stove, and the smell was mouth-watering. Despite his meal last night, Jongdae was starving.

He didn’t know if he should speak or clear his throat to try to get Minseok’s attention. He needed to know where he was supposed to be, but Minseok was the last person he wanted to ask. Out of all the people he’d met yesterday, Minseok had easily been the most frightening and possibly the least pleased about Yifan’s decision to let Jongdae stay aboard.

Minseok saved him the trouble of making that decision. “You gonna stand there all day, or…” Minseok asked without looking up from the cutting board.

Minseok’s cool tone sent Jongdae babbling into an explanation. “Sorry, um, I was, uh, I was looking for Yixing or Yifan, or, um...somebody was gonna tell me what to do, maybe? Yifan said I could stay and help.”

“I know what Yifan said.”

“Right, of cou-”

“And you’re stuck with me today,” Minseok said, finally looking up. He looked at Jongdae as though he knew something about him that Jongdae didn’t. It was unnerving, but Jongdae maintained eye contact. He didn’t want Minseok to know he was afraid of him.

“Did you eat?” Minseok asked.

Jongdae was a bit taken aback by the suddenness of the question. He hadn’t really expected Minseok to be thinking about him much, if he was being honest. Jongdae shook his head.

Minseok turned to the fridge and pulled out a plastic-wrapped tray. “Yixing was supposed to get you something, but I guess he got distracted.” He peeled the plastic off and put the tray in the oven. He looked over to where Jongdae still standing by the med bay door. “Well? Come and sit down. If I was gonna kill you, I would’ve done it already.” Minseok laughed but the sound was far from reassuring.

Jongdae didn’t doubt that Minseok could kill him if he wanted to. He really didn’t want to walk over to where Minseok was brandishing a very sharp knife, but the man hadn’t done anything today to earn Jongdae’s skittishness. So Jongdae crossed the room and sat on one of the stools in front of the galley kitchen’s counter.

Minseok hummed while he worked. High and soft, some song Jongdae didn’t know. It was a habit Jongdae wouldn’t have expected of him, but Jongdae barely knew him, after all. He was chopping vegetables with quick and precise motions, every piece the same size and width. He held the knife like an extension of his own arm, and Jongdae watched him, transfixed.

Jongdae jumped in his seat when the timer on the oven went off. He thought he saw Minseok smile at him, but his expression returned to neutral so quickly that Jongdae couldn’t be sure. Minseok placed the tray on the counter in front of him and handed him some cutlery. Jongdae assumed was as good as permission to start eating. But just like the night before, he held himself back, eating as slowly as he could stand. Minseok watched him with a casual interest. It was clear he saw what Jongdae was doing, probably even knew why, but he was willing to let Jongdae do it anyways, to feel like he was in control. Jongdae didn’t know if he was grateful or not.

The silence dragged on. Just the sound of Jongdae chewing, his cutlery scraping the metal tray, and the almost drumbeat sound of Minseok’s knife hitting the cutting board.

“About yesterday,” Minseok began. He placed the knife down and looked at Jongdae. “I didn’t know who you were, if you were a threat, you know? But if Yifan said you’re good, then you’re good, okay?”

He sounded earnest, apologetic almost. Jongdae knew he wasn’t sorry for what he’d said or done yesterday. Jongdae didn’t expect him to be. Minseok was the kind of man who stood by his decisions. But it seemed like, maybe, he was sorry that Jongdae was pretty obviously afraid of him now. Whether it was because he actually felt bad or because it was inconvenient for him, Jongdae didn’t know.

“Okay,” Jongdae said, and he let himself eat a little faster.

After he had finished, Minseok told him they were spending the morning meal-prepping, since having Jongdae aboard meant that they needed twice the supply of levo food for the rest of the mission. Luckily, Minseok liked to be well-prepared, so the added food requirements wouldn’t over-burden the ship’s supply. Jongdae was glad for that. He could get used to eating regular meals.

Jongdae had never cooked before, but Minseok had given him the almost mind-numbing task of watching the pots on the stove, stirring every few minutes and making sure they didn’t boil over. Minseok said it freed him up to focus on the ingredients, but Jongdae was pretty sure it was just busy work. He didn’t mind much, though. He’d rather be here than the med bay, or the brig.

While they worked, Minseok told him about the ship. According to him, it was pretty standard layout as far as turian ships went. The level they were on was the biggest, housing the med bay, the mess, the crew quarters, observation, bathrooms, and the Executive Officer’s, or X.O.’s quarters. That’s where Minseok slept. On the level below them were the engine room, training room and the cargo bay. And above them were Yifan’s quarters and the bridge.

“Yifan warned you away from there, yeah?”

Jongdae nodded, then realized his back was to Minseok. “Yeah, he did.”

“Figure he was more worried about what Zitao might do to you if you got in there than anything else.” 

Yixing had mentioned Zitao, too. The way they talked about him made it seem like he was off in some way, maybe even violent or deranged. Jongdae wasn’t looking forward to eventually meeting him.

“Is Zitao dangerous?” he asked, and then regretted it. It seemed rude to ask something like that to one of Zitao’s crew members.

Minseok laughed. “No, nothing like that. I mean, he can be deadly when he wants to be, but he’s certainly not unhinged of anything. He’s just… different. Practically lives on the bridge and he’s very particular about his space.”

It didn’t exactly calm Jongdae, but at least he knew he wasn’t going to be murdered in his sleep. Not by Zitao, anyways.

“So, you worked for the Suns before you wound up here?” Minseok asked almost too casually.

Jongdae froze mid-stir. He definitely did not want Minseok to think he was a gang member, a criminal. Except that he had been a criminal, and even if he hadn’t worn their insignia, he’d done their dirty work for them. But, if Yifan knew, he might change his mind about the brig.

“Seems like there’s not a lot of other options on a backwater like that,” Minseok said generously. He was giving Jongdae an out to admit it without condemning him. But Jongdae wasn’t sure he trusted it, not entirely. Despite deferring to Yifan’s judgment, Minseok seemed to want to make his own. He was trying to feel Jongdae out, and Jongdae didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt him.

“There weren’t,” he said shortly. The few options there were, Jongdae had done them all. Working with the Suns really had been the best choice.

“And before that, you were in some kind of research facility for biotics? The one you said we could sell you back to?”

Jongdae took a moment to stir the pot, watching the spoon cut through the broth. “Yes.”

“So that’s why you needed to get off Valern; the Suns found out about your biotics and were planning to ransom you back.”

Jongdae didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Minseok knew he was right.

He prepared himself for the barrage of questions that would be coming any second now. What he did for the Suns, what he did before the Suns, how he escaped the Facility, what they did to him there. His stomach clenched at the thought of answering. He felt Minseok’s eyes on him and he gripped the wooden spoon hard enough that his hand ached.

“Must have been rough,” Minseok said after a moment before very deliberately turning and resuming his chopping.

Jongdae let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, well, not like anybody has it easy.” He was glad Minseok had stopped looking at him. He suddenly felt too warm, and he unzipped his hoodie a little, wishing he could move away from the hot stove.

Minseok gave a hum of acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. He was clearly more comfortable with the ensuing silence than Jongdae was. Jongdae shifted the spoon between his hands, resisting the urge to tap it against the side of the pot. Minseok came up behind Jongdae, peering over his shoulder. He took the spoon from Jongdae’s hand and gave the closest pot an assessing stir.

“Looks about done, yeah?” Minseok asked. Jongdae hoped he wasn’t looking for an answer because he had no idea.

Jongdae stepped back as Minseok moved in front of him, bumping into the counter in an attempt to give Minseok room in the small kitchen. Minseok turned off the burners and placed the spoon carefully in the metal sink so that it wouldn’t clank loudly as it landed. Rather than step away, Minseok turned around, facing Jongdae. There was less than a foot of space between them. As much as he wanted to move away from him, Jongdae felt rooted to the spot.

“So, are you gonna ask?” Minseok asked him. He was wearing a mischievous smile that did not fit the serious man he had spent the morning with.

“Ask?” Jongdae repeated, completely thrown by Minseok’s change in demeanor. 

Minseok didn’t let Jongdae linger in his confusion. “Human on a turian military ship? Usually gets a lot of questions.”

Jongdae honestly hadn’t thought to ask that, even though he did find it strange. He had chalked that up to things he wasn’t supposed to know - he had had no expectations that Minseok would tell him anything about it, so he hadn’t even bothered to speculate.

“It’s your business,” Jongdae said, looking over to where his hand was gripping the counter.

Minseok laughed brightly and moved to the cutting board on Jongdae’s right, pulling out large swaths of plastic wrap for the vegetables he had chopped. “You’ve got a knack for self-preservation, kid. But since I was all up in your business, it’s only fair, right?”

Jongdae didn’t really have a response for that. But if Minseok wanted to tell him, he wasn’t going to refuse. Even if he wasn’t sure what good it might do him later, he was at the very least curious. Turians and humans were barely past civil these days, so for a human to be serving on a turian ship? It must be quite the story.

“So, let’s see,” Minseok began as he continued with his task, “I started in the Alliance, even served in the First Contact War. Then I got picked for the N7 program.”

Jongdae knew the N7 program existed in reality, but N7 operatives had been like comic book heroes on Valern. They were the Systems Alliance’s best soldiers, given elite training under the harshest conditions the galaxy could throw at them, and honed into near-unbeatable deadly weapons.

Minseok caught the flash of surprise that passed over Jongdae’s face, despite Jongdae’s attempts to hide it. He chuckled. “I know I may not look it-” He waved a hand over himself as if to indicate his small stature. “But I graduated at the top of my program.”

Jongdae had no trouble believing that. Minseok was surrounded by an aura of danger, even now, and Jongdae had learned a long time ago that looks didn’t mean shit.

“Anyhow, the story really starts when I was serving on an Alliance ship - must have been, what, almost four years ago now? We were primarily running diplomatic and peacekeeping missions in Council space. My captain got bored, I guess, never really said why. Convinced the whole crew to turn pirate, except me that is. He marooned me on a tiny moon, which was nicer than shooting me, I’ll give him that.” It was like Minseok was holding something back, that there was more to the story than he was telling, but Jongdae wasn’t about to point that out.

“I guess he figured I’d die pretty quickly,” Minseok continued, “but that N7 training. They train you to survive with no food or water for days, to get a signal out with nothing but your omni-tool and your service pistol. So I got word out to the Alliance about what had happened - the desertion, how I was stranded, the whole thing.”

“But the Alliance didn’t come,” Jongdae heard himself saying. He hadn’t meant to interrupt but for whatever reason, he felt compelled to participate, like Minseok was almost asking him to.

Minseok nodded. “Right in one. Told me I was too close to the Terminus Systems for them to come retrieve me. Didn’t want to cause an incident with the Batarians. I think it was more they didn’t like the optics of a war hero captain and his crew turning against them. Better if the shame dies with me, you know.” Minseok grabbed the bundles of plastic-wrapped vegetables and deposited them neatly in the fridge. He leaned against the door after he shut it. Jongdae should have felt relieved for the space, but something made him feel as though the moment was broken, that Minseok was wrapping himself up too. 

“A turian cruiser heard my distress call and picked me up the next day. They wanted info, and I gave it. Not like I was going back to the Alliance after all that. Long story short, Yifan’s the only captain who’d have me. Not many turians trust humans, much less would let them serve on their ship.”

“But Yifan’s different?” Jongdae was already getting the sense that Yifan was very different. He hadn’t just taken Minseok in, he’d made him his X.O. He’d listened to Jongdae rather than throw him out, made sure he was comfortable, let him prove he was worth something.

“Yeah,” Minseok agreed. “Yifan’s different.”

After fastidiously cleaning the kitchen, Minseok brought Jongdae down to the cargo bay to show him how to clean the guns. Entering the cargo bay by the stairs was miles better than coming in in a shipping container, but he still felt a stab of panic shoot through him. He gripped the railing and stood at the top of the stairs, breathing in deeply through his nose and allowing it to pass.

Minseok wasn’t as chatty as he’d been upstairs, in fact he barely said anything at all, but Jongdae didn’t mind the quiet. The silence between them was almost companionable. Besides, there was something meditative about cleaning the guns - watching Minseok take them apart slowly and deliberately, as though he wanted Jongdae to see how each piece fit together, before handing the part to Jongdae, and Jongdae, just as methodically, cleaning out the barrels and wiping the outsides with a cloth until they reflected a distorted version of his face back at him. Occasionally, Minseok would tell him about a particular gun, always a bit detached and distant, as though it wasn’t Minseok speaking at all. Jongdae felt like they were creating some kind of ritual between them. He hadn’t realized he could actually feel calm like this.

Then, there was a bang of a door slamming open. Jongdae was glad the gun he was holding wasn’t loaded.

“Minnie,” Luhan whined as he stomped his way across the cargo bay. “I’m bored.” As he approached, his eyes landed on Jongdae sitting on the ground by Minseok’s feet. “Ooh! You brought the human!”

“Jongdae, Luhan,” Minseok corrected placidly, but without much conviction. He seemed to have no faith that Luhan would listen to him.

“Yeah, right, cool,” Luhan, still looking at Jongdae. He dropped into a crouch. Jongdae was petrified and with Minseok behind him, he had nowhere to go even if he felt capable of moving. This close, the size difference between Jongdae and the turian was even more apparent. Luhan loomed over him easily. His sharp talons gleamed menacingly in the fluorescent light as he reached out to touch Jongdae.

“You know, even though I wanted to airlock you yesterday, I’m glad Yifan wanted to keep you. It’s fun having other humans around. You’re all so pretty.”

That hadn’t been what Jongdae was expecting to hear at all.

Luhan was wearing the widest smile as he fluffed his hand through Jongdae’s hair. “I mean look - your hair is so soft - so much softer than fringe - and it comes in so many colors! And your skin!” He trailed a talon down the side of Jongdae’s cheek. “Your skin is so smooth and delicate. I could tear through it with my talons like it was nothing.” Luhan sounded fascinated, as though imagining doing exactly that and enjoying it. Jongdae was frozen in horror.

“Luhan, what have we said about boundaries?” Minseok chided. He sounded almost bored.

“I was paying him a compliment.” Luhan was still stroking Jongdae’s face. Minseok reached down and removed Luhan’s hand. Luhan rolled his eyes and stood up with a huff.

Jongdae scrambled up off the floor and hoisted himself onto one of the nearby shipping crates, pulling his knees up to his chest. He could still feel Luhan’s talon on his face, but it wasn’t Luhan’s voice he was hearing. Was it Luhan’s face in front of him, or somebody else’s? He could remember anything besides the touch and hot breath on his face. He pulled his arms tighter around his legs.

Minseok was examining him again, clearly trying to parse his reaction to Luhan. Luhan ignored all of this. The turian walked behind Minseok and draped himself over the smaller man, resting his chin on top of Minseok’s head. Minseok sighed, but the sound was half-hearted, and rather than push him off, he shifted so that he could better accommodate Luhan’s weight.

Even without the physical affection, Jongdae would have guessed that the pair were more than just crewmates. Minseok treated Luhan like a child, but Luhan didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, he almost seemed to prefer deferring to Minseok. And around Luhan, Minseok appeared, well, as close to relaxed as the man could probably get. When Jongdae had been in the kitchen with him, Minseok had used physical closeness like a weapon, a way to capture Jongdae’s interest, maybe even intimidate him. It was as effective as it was calculated. Here, with Luhan, he was someone much simpler, someone Minseok likely hadn’t intended Jongdae to see, but was allowing him to anyways. Jongdae wondered if their relationship was condoned or just an open secret to the rest of the crew. A tiny perverse part of him wanted to know how that even worked between a turian and a human. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

“I’m still bored,” Luhan said.

“And this is my problem now?” Minseok asked. He shrugged Luhan’s arms off of his shoulders so he could begin putting away the guns they had just cleaned.

“Neither of you are any fun.” Luhan walked over to a very messy workbench against the wall on Jongdae’s left. He picked up a blowtorch and toyed with the trigger, shooting our sporadic bursts of flame. “How long does it really take to track down one stupid ambassador anyways?”

Minseok visibly tensed. This was clearly something Jongdae was not meant to hear. Jongdae felt the tendrils of fear start to creep back again. If he wasn’t supposed to know, what might happen to him now that he did?

Luhan didn’t miss Minseok’s reaction either. “Like your precious Yifan’s gonna care. Besides, who’s the kid gonna tell? It’s not like it’s some big secret.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Yeah, yeah. Chain of command and all that shit. I’m just saying, if he’s gonna be stuck here, he might as well know why. Could be dangerous. At least I’m hoping it is.” He flashed Jongdae a very sharp smile. If it was meant to intimidate him, it was working.

Minseok ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “Luhan’s right,” he said to Jongdae. “You’re at risk here, and it’s only fair that you have some idea of what you’re getting into. I’ll smooth it over with Yifan, if it comes to that. The Turian Hierarchy lost contact with Ambassador Parvitus’s ship eighteen hours ago. Obviously the mission is very time sensitive. It’s why we couldn’t drop you off right away.”

“Are you thinking it was pirates?” Jongdae asked. He let one of his legs down over the side of the crate and leaned forward against the other. He’d heard about larger pirate gangs going after important ships like this, especially if they carried someone like an ambassador who would definitely be worth a large ransom.

“Could be,” Luhan said, “but Parvitus is the turian ambassador to the Alliance, and pretty pro-human. Lot of people don’t like that. On both sides.”

“We have Parvitus’s ships last coordinates and possible trajectory based off of their scheduled flight plan, but to know where to search, we have to account for drift,” Minseok continued. “And if they were attacked and knocked off course, it widens the area even more. Our ship’s sensors can only scan so far. Even if we’re in the right system, it could take a day or more to find the ship.”

“Which means there’s nothing to do while we wait for Yixing to do all his nerd shit,” Luhan said.

“You could always clean out the engine room.”

Luhan chose to ignore Minseok. He grabbed a safety visor and some kind of laser from the pile of tools on his workbench. “What’s your name again, kid? Yifan wanted me to make you some dog tags in case, you know - “ He mimed an explosion.

Jongdae didn’t love the implication of that. “It’s Jongdae,” he told Luhan nonetheless.

“You got a last name, Jongdae?”

If he ever did, he obviously couldn't remember it now. He hadn’t even known his first name when he came to Valern - things like last names hadn’t mattered there at all. “What do you think?” He was tired of being interrogated, tired of being reminded of all the things he didn’t know about himself.

Luhan just laughed. “Yifan’s got good taste,” he said to Minseok.

Jongdae felt himself flush at the insinuation. He almost wanted to correct him, to tell him that Yifan didn’t want anything to do with him, but Luhan was just about the last person he wanted knowing about that interaction.

“You can be a ‘Kim’, like me,” Minseok suggested. “There’s just about a million of us out there.” Minseok appeared nonchalant, still reassembling the guns and putting them away, but Jongdae could see the gesture for what it was. Maybe he didn’t trust Jongdae fully, but he was willing to give him a chance.

Jongdae shrugged as though Minseok’s sudden support was no big deal to him. “Sure. ‘Kim’ works.”

Kim Jongdae. He liked it.

Jongdae had dinner in the mess with Minseok, Luhan, and Yixing. Yixing didn’t seem surprised that Luhan had told Jongdae about the mission. On the contrary, he took it as license to launch into a lengthy discussion of the algorithms he was using to track down the ambassador’s ship. Luhan was taking advantage of being out of Yixing’s sight line by openly mocking him, and Jongdae had to pointedly ignore him for fear of laughing.

When he could get a word in, Minseok tested Jongdae on the guns they had cleaned earlier. He was pleased to see that Jongdae remembered nearly everything he’d taught him. Jongdae had revealed that it was far from his first encounter with guns, and that he was a decent shot when pressed. Minseok told him he’d have to put that claim to the test. Jongdae was eager to show him. His marksmanship was something he had taught himself, one of the few things he had to be proud of from his time on Valern.

After dinner, Minseok walked him to the crew quarters. Jongdae expected Luhan to join him, but Minseok informed him that Luhan had “other sleeping arrangements”, his tone decidedly neutral. The door slid shut behind him as he left Jongdae alone in the room.

There were four bunks in the crew quarters. Rather than standard bunk beds, they appeared to have been hollowed out of the metal walls, each one looking like its own self-contained pod. Jongdae chose the bottom bunk that had a view of the door. He slipped off his shoes, pulled back the blanket, and climbed in.

The lights turned off shortly after he laid down. They were probably motion-activated, or maybe on a timer, he thought idly. Jongdae stared up at the metal bunk ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could swear it was dipping lower with each passing minute. The thin blanket felt too heavy and he kicked it off as though it might actually suffocate him.

He was flat on his back, utterly still, taking in deep breaths through his nose. He kept forgetting to breathe out. Eventually, he forced himself to close his eyes and keep them shut. This was no worse than the shipping crate, than the med bay, than - 

A little girl was screaming. 

Jongdae could hear her though the wall. She was screaming, shrill and desperate, pounding her tiny fists against the metal. His pod was sealed closed. He turned and pushed his hands as hard as he could against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t reach her.

There was a hissing noise. Jongdae could hear it even over her shrieks. The air was getting thicker. He pulled a barrier around himself on instinct. The bright blue glow was clouded by fog.

This was a test.

The girl was coughing and spluttering. Her fingers scrabbled against the wall between them.

Jongdae waited. He had to wait and to hope. Hope he had enough air. Hope he had been quick enough.

Jongdae threw himself onto the floor out of the bunk, landing painfully on his hip. He was gasping, but it felt like he wasn’t taking in any air. His lungs burned. He didn’t scream. He wouldn’t.

He remembered how the girl’s coughs had turned to plaintive whines and then nothing. He remembered seeing her after, tears streaked down her face, bloodied stubs where her fingernails had been. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t the only one the doctors carried away that night.

It was a test. Jongdae had passed.

Jongdae scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over the shoes he’d left by the bunk. He shoved through the door into the hallway. The lights were dimmed and the emergency lights cast a red glow over the dark corners of the ship. The mess was full of shadows. He couldn’t be here, all metal, walls closing in. He needed to go, needed to breathe, before they found him, before it was his turn to fail. He couldn’t remember her face, but he could still see her terror.

He stumbled through the door at the far end of the hallway and stopped. The observation deck’s window was uncovered, and the light of a hundred stars illuminated the room. There was nothing but the sound of his panting and the gentle hum of the ship. He was looking at the stars. There were never any stars in his dreams.

There was a small couch facing the window, and he walked over to it, stepping as lightly as he could, as though if he made any sound, the stars would flee and he would be left alone. He’d be hurtled back into the darkness. He sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. He counted every star he could see as his breathing began to slow down. And, just because he could, he counted them again.

Jongdae heard the door slide open behind him, but he didn’t turn. He wasn’t sure which reality he’d see if he did. And he wanted to watch the stars for as long as they would let him.

Yifan didn’t notice Jongdae until he saw down in the chair next to the couch. He was absorbed in something he was reading on his tablet. “Oh,” he said, but he didn’t follow it up with anything else. He locked the tablet display and placed the device gently in his lap. He was clearly surprised to see Jongdae and wasn’t too sure what to do about it. But he wasn’t telling him to leave.

After a brief moment of staring at Jongdae, he picked up his tablet and made to stand up. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize. I can go somewhere else.”

“No,” Jongdae heard himself say. One of his hands reached out as though to grab Yifan’s arm. Yifan was the first thing that night that felt real, the only thing he knew wasn’t a memory trying to burn him alive. He couldn’t lose that peace of mind right now. He was huddled on the couch, barefoot and shaking. “You don’t have to go,” he said quietly, desperately. He dropped his arm and looked back out at the stars. “I mean, it’s your ship.” He tried to shrug, but his shoulders came up around his ears and stayed there.

Yifan was still looking at Jongdae, watching Jongdae curl in on himself even more and stare resolutely out of the window. He placed his tablet on the end table with a small click. “Would you like some tea? I was just about to make some. I know Minseok keeps some around.”

Jongdae didn’t know if he wanted tea, but he knew he wanted a moment to collect himself. “Sure. Tea’s good.”

Yifan stood and hovered for a minute, like he didn’t want to leave Jongdae alone, like he didn’t think that Jongdae would still be there when he came back. But he shook his head slightly and walked out the door without another word.

Jongdae didn’t have any idea how much time had passed before Yifan came back, but it was long enough that he had shifted to curl into the corner of the couch, leaning heavily on the arm. He sat up a bit as Yifan handed him his mug. Instead of sitting back in the chair, Yifan sat on the couch next to him. He lowered himself gingerly and held himself upright and rigid, as though Jongdae might bolt, but Jongdae found he didn’t mind Yifan being close.

Yifan took a sip of his tea, and Jongdae did the same. The tea was spicy and rich. It warmed him and made him sink further into the couch.

Jongdae looked at Yifan. He looked enormously tall, even though he was slightly slouched into the couch. He features, which had been so severe and alien in the med bay, were cast softly by the starlight. When he drank his tea, Jongdae noticed a small scar on his upper lip, right below the tail end of his markings. Jongdae wondered how he’d gotten it.

Yifan must have known Jongdae was watching him, because he made no move to stop him. He didn’t show any signs of discomfort at being the object of Jongdae’s scrutiny. He just continued to drink his tea and let Jongdae look his fill.

It took both of Jongdae’s hands to hold the mug Yifan easily cradled in one. It was difficult to hold it while leaning against the arm, so he shifted to sit up more. In his new position, his foot was just barely touching Yifan’s thigh. He told himself the couch would have been a tight fit for two humans, and Yifan was much bigger. But he didn’t move his foot away. Yifan didn’t move either.

It was a while before Yifan spoke. Jongdae had finished his tea and had placed his mug on the end table next to Yifan’s tablet. Yifan was still holding his mug.

Before Yifan spoke, he turned to look at Jongdae, and Jongdae felt small. It was a good small, though. The same small the stars had made him feel. Yifan’s eyes were a deep bottomless black, but Jongdae wasn’t frightened. Jongdae didn’t know what Yifan was seeing when he looked at him. He wanted to. And for once, he didn’t want it for any sort of advantage, or for protection later on. He just wanted to know.

That thought scared him. He pulled himself in a bit tighter and looked out the window, his heart racing. He wasn’t touching Yifan anymore. He didn’t feel calmer for it.

“I was married once,” Yifan said softly, but it seemed to command the whole room. Even the stars stopped blinking.

Jongdae didn’t reply; he didn’t know how to. But Yifan clearly wasn’t expecting him to.

“I loved her. At least I think I did. We had known each other for so long it seemed almost inevitable.” Yifan took a sip of tea. “My father was thrilled. He’s a big time politician back on Palaven. Aurelia’s family were - are - very well-connected. That kind of thing shouldn’t matter, but he always wanted a legacy.

“But then there was my unit. It was only me and Zitao in the beginning, but it felt important, like I was important. Like I was making a real difference out in the galaxy.” He chuckled. “I know it sounds naive, but I was so young then.

“My father wanted me to come back to Palaven, to retire from active service and start my political career. Aurelia, well, she was tired of being alone, tired of wondering whether her husband was alive or dead. She wanted me home. She told me I needed to come home and live with her or she was done. That she couldn’t live like that anymore. I didn’t blame her - God knows she deserved better - but I re-enlisted anyways.”

His thumb was rubbing over the rim of his mug, clicking every so often as his talon caught the edge. “I told her I couldn’t abandon my crew. That they needed me. They were good soldiers no one else wanted and I couldn’t let them down by leaving them. I guess I figured she’d be fine without me, already was, but them?” He lowered the mug to his lap and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if that was actually the truth.”

Jongdae had hung onto every word, the deep, even rumbling of Yifan’s voice captivating him. As he fell silent, it felt like there was a void growing between them, that Yifan’s voice was the only thing tethering him, and now he was drifting away.

“What do you think now?” Jongdae whispered.

Yifan didn’t answer him right away. “I think…” he said, and Jongdae waited. “I think you can’t see the stars on Palaven.”

He said it like it was a great secret. Even though he was speaking to Jongdae, it wasn’t meant for Jongdae to hear, not really. It meant so much more to him than he was saying.

There was something in the air now. Yifan’s confusion felt all wrong on him, like the turian wasn’t meant to bear it. Jongdae wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t know how. He was too used to being lost himself. “I’ve never seen the stars before. Not like this, at least,” he said. “On Valern, it was too dusty to see much of anything at night, and before, well, I don’t think I knew what stars were before.

“Seeing the stars, it’s like freedom, isn’t it? There’s all that shit out there, and you just...I don’t know.” When he looked at Yifan, Yifan was looking back at him, and he thought that Yifan might understand, might look at the stars and see all of their possibilities, the versions of himself he had yet to become. All the things Jongdae didn’t know how to say. He wondered how anyone could know Yifan and ask him to give all that up.

Jongdae didn’t know when he fell asleep that night, but when he woke up, there was a soft blanket tucked around him.


	4. Chapter 3

When Jongdae walked into the mess the next morning, there was a turian he didn’t recognize sitting at the table. Jongdae assumed this must be the elusive Zitao. He looked to be nearly as tall as Yifan but much slimmer. Unlike the other turians Jongdae had met thus far, he didn’t have any markings on his face.

“Hello, Jongdae,” Zitao said simply before turning back to his meal.

Jongdae made an aborted humming noise, a bit thrown by the brevity of Zitao’s introduction. He cleared his throat. “Hi, is, um, is Yifan around?” He didn’t know why he was asking for Yifan when Minseok was the one he’d been working with. He told himself it was because Yifan was the captain - best to get his orders from the man in charge.

“Yes,” Zitao answered, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Oh, okay, I’ll just - ” Jongdae tried to make some gesture that indicated he would wait for Yifan there, but he was pretty sure he just looked like an idiot. He quickly dropped his arms to his sides.

He waited awkwardly for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure if he should wait until Yifan or someone else arrived to eat. On the one hand, he didn’t think he should be rummaging around the kitchen unsupervised, but it seemed rude to expect the crew to wait on him. He certainly didn’t want to ask Zitao for help. In the end, his hunger won out, and he walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, hoping he would be able to tell the difference between the levo and dextro food.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. Someone had made up a tray and labeled it with his name. He wondered who had done it. A part of him hoped it was Yifan, but he pushed that thought away. Minseok had probably done it while prepping weekly meals or something.

He grabbed the tray and took off the plastic wrap before putting it in the oven. He thought he would feel Zitao’s eyes on him, but Zitao seemed to be completely ignoring him. Jongdae found Zitao’s lack of interest odd. He had gotten so used to people watching him over the past two days that he had come to expect it. What did it mean that Zitao wasn’t curious or even skeptical? His complacency put Jongdae on edge. At least with the scrutiny, he knew what the others were thinking.

The timer dinged, and Jongdae took his food and sat at the other end of the table. If Zitao had any reaction to that, he didn’t show it. He just continued to eat as though Jongdae wasn’t there. 

Yifan entered the room not long after, mug in hand. Jongdae wondered if it was the same mug from the night before, if he’d been awake the entire time Jongdae had been asleep. He wanted to tease Yifan, ask him how many cups he’d had, but the impulse was overly familiar, stupid.

“Jongdae,” Yifan said as he sat down across from him. Their knees were almost touching under the table. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” Jongdae said and then paused. “Well.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Yifan smiled at him with closed lips, making sure to hide his sharp teeth from view. Jongdae could feel a flush start to rise on his cheeks and he busied himself with eating. He was being ridiculous.

At the same time, he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to have Yifan - maybe - acknowledge what had happened between them. Jongdae wasn’t intending to say it out loud, but this was enough, knowing that it had really happened - 

He was blowing it out of proportion. It was just tea. Yifan might have done the same for anyone he found on the observation deck. It was stupid to think it meant anything to him. Jongdae was suddenly angry at himself for letting his guard down, for letting his desperation and loneliness be so obvious.

Yifan interrupted Jongdae’s self-flagellation. “So Minseok tells me you can handle yourself around guns.”

“I’m alright,” Jongdae replied, glad for something else to focus on. “I’ve been in a few firefights, but it’s not like I’m an expert or anything.”

Yifan nodded, seeming to tuck the information away for later use. He was clearly assessing Jongdae, and Jongdae stopped eating to let him. This wasn’t the warm and open Yifan he’d met on the observation deck last night. No, this was the Yifan who’d interrogated him in the med bay, Yifan in full captain mode. The way he could snap back into that person so easily made Jongdae’s head spin. “And then there’s your biotics,” Yifan mused.

Yifan wanted to ask something of Jongdae but he was holding himself back. It was like he hadn’t decided if it was a good idea or not. Whatever it was, it much be important, but he knew Jongdae wouldn’t like it. Yifan wouldn’t deliberate like this otherwise.

“What about my biotics?” Jongdae asked. He wanted Yifan to know that he would answer, even if it made him uncomfortable. He owed Yifan that much at least.

Yifan took another moment to watch Jongdae, but ultimately took his invitation. “I’d like to test them. Your biotics. My crew doesn’t get the opportunity to train against biotics, and I think it would be very valuable for all of us. Besides,” he said a bit more casually, “I can’t say I’m not curious to see what you can do.”

Tests. Yifan wanted tests. Tests meant pain and not knowing why. Tests meant doing it over and over again until his nose bled and he passed out from exhaustion.

Jongdae could feel himself breathing heavily; his hands were shaking too much to hold onto his cutlery and they fell to the table with a loud clatter. He wanted to run, but mostly he wanted to slip down under the table, pull up a barrier, and hide there until Yifan left.

“We don’t have to.” Yifan’s eyes were wide. It sounded like he was speaking from far away. “I’m sorry, Jongdae. I didn’t mean - ”

Blood was rushing in Jongdae’s ears, drowning out Yifan’s apology. Yifan reached his hand across the table as though to grab hold of Jongdae’s, but Jongdae snatched his hand away before Yifan could reach him. Yifan winced, but he tried to hide it. He was trying to keep his face neutral, calm, but it was clear that Yifan was alarmed and deeply concerned. But most of all, he looked incredibly guilty. He wasn’t worried about what Jongdae might do to him or his crew. He was worried about what he had done to Jongdae.

Jongdae forced himself to breathe. He closed his eyes and unclenched his fingers one by one. Yifan wasn’t one of the scientists. He wasn’t going to hurt him the way they had. He wasn’t even angry at Jongdae’s freak out. Yifan had apologized just for suggesting it.

He opened his eyes and looked at Yifan again. Yifan was looking at him almost helplessly. “I swear, Jongdae, you don’t have to. I-”

“I’ll do it,” Jongdae said.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have-” he said hastily, but Jongdae cut him off.

“I want to do it.” He wasn’t lying, not entirely. He was scared as hell. His biotics were something he wished he could just lock away and never think of again. But Yifan was trusting him with his ship and his crew. Jongdae wanted to trust him with this, practically needed to.

Yifan looked like he might continue to protest, but he took a deep breath in through his nose and nodded instead. “Would you be able to meet me outside of the training room in an hour?”

Yifan asked “would you” as if Jongdae might have something more important to do, as if he weren’t the captain of the whole goddamned ship, but Jongdae saw the question for what it really was. He was giving him one more chance to back out.

“Yeah. I should be able to fit that in my schedule.” Jongdae tried on a smile. He hoped it looked better than it felt.

“I’ll go and let the others know,” Zitao said.

Jongdae had completely forgotten Zitao was still sitting at the table. His stomach dropped in humiliation. It was one thing for Yifan to see Jongdae’s breakdown, but Zitao? Jongdae didn’t feel much like eating anymore.

Zitao rose from the table and walked out of the room without making a sound. Jongdae watched him leave out of the corner of his eye, still feeling too warm everywhere.

After Zitao was gone, Yifan looked Jongdae over, obviously trying to see if he really was as okay with the tests as he said he was. His skin prickled. Why would he need to protect Jongdae unless he thought Jongdae was too weak to take care of himself?

“I’m okay,” Jongdae insisted before Yifan could ask. “Really. I’m fine. It’s not - It’s not a big deal. Can we just…” Jongdae desperately wanted Yifan to pretend he hadn’t seen Jongdae freak out like that. He didn’t want Yifan’s pity.

“If you’re sure,” Yifan said, eyes still roaming over Jongdae’s face. But he quickly gave up his search. “I’ll see you in an hour then.”

As soon as Yifan was gone, Jongdae thunked his head down on the table and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him.

Jongdae was outside the training room ten minutes early. It had taken him less than twenty minutes to shower and re-dress, and he had spent the rest of his time pacing on the observation deck. He flared up his biotics and watched as the blue energy crawled across his hands. He was still scared, sure, but he wanted to impress Yifan. He didn’t want to admit it, but a tiny part of him wanted to know how powerful he really was, what he could do if given the chance.

Jongdae only had to wait a few minutes for Yifan to arrive. He wasn’t surprised the captain was early. Yifan was dressed more casually than Jongdae had seen before, wearing a loose-fitting pair of black pants and a black long-sleeved top that wrapped across his broad chest and fastened on the side. His huge bird-like feet were barefoot.

“You’re early,” Yifan said as he caught sight of him. Maybe he thought he was going to have to track Jongdae down. “You still up for this?” His tone was playful but his face was cautious. He was still trying to make sure he wasn’t pushing Jongdae too far.

“Bring it on,” Jongdae said. He was as ready as he was going to be.

Yifan opened the door to the training room and led Jongdae inside. The room was empty besides the padded mats that covered the floor and walls. Partially obscured by one of the mats was a door that probably led to a closet where the training equipment was stored. Jongdae wondered if the mats were up all the time, or if they were taking extra precautions due to Jongdae’s biotics.

He was worried he would be stuck waiting in the small room with Yifan, trying to reassure him that he was fine, that whatever stupid shit he’d pulled this morning was just that, but Yifan didn’t bring it up.

“Do you need to warm up?” Yifan asked, all business.

Jongdae had barely used his biotics after the Facility - just a few barriers that were more instinct than skill - so he honestly didn’t know. He was glad he couldn’t remember most of the training he’d had at the Facility; he figured the knowledge wouldn’t be worth the memories.

Minseok and Zitao arrived at the hour on the dot, and Luhan and Yixing followed not long after. Luhan and Yixing were dressed in the same manner as Yifan. Zitao, on the other hand, was dressed in what appeared to be long strips of purple fabric, wrapped around each of his legs and then halfway up his torso, his upper chest exposed. Jongdae forced himself to stop staring.

“Jongdae’s agreed to let us spar with him,” Yifan said without preamble once the group was settled.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” Minseok asked. “No offence,” he said to Jongdae, “ but you don’t have the training the rest of us have. It’s not going to be a fair fight.”

Jongdae prickled. He knew Minseok was trying to look out for him, but he didn’t need to be protected, not from this. “It’s not a fair fight,” he shot back. “I have biotics.”

“Jongdae’s right,” Yifan interjected. “He does have the advantage. That’s why we’re going to do things a bit differently today.” He turned to the crew. “We’ll fight until someone gets pinned. Stay down for more than five seconds and you’re out. Once one of us is out, the next one tags in - no breaks. Remember: the goal is to incapacitate only, no aiming to hurt beyond light bruising. Jongdae, you just worry about keeping yourself in the fight as long as you can. I’ll give you all five minutes to get ready.”

Minseok started stretching. Yixing was throwing a few practice punches. Zitao went into the closet and returned with a long wooden staff with soft balls on either end that he swung with ease. Jongdae wasn’t looking forward to facing that at all.

For his part, Jongdae mostly paced near the door. He didn’t try to practice any moves with his biotics; he figured he was going to need to save his strength for the actual matches. Besides, it wasn’t like he knew what to do. He was mostly just hoping instinct would kick in once someone was trying to punch him.

He nearly jumped when Yifan tapped him on the shoulder. Yifan held his hand up placatingly. He was holding a padded helmet that was clearly made for humans. Jongdae took it and pulled it onto his head.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” Yifan was looking down at Jongdae with the same concern in his eyes he’d had in the mess earlier. Jongdae shouldn’t have let Yifan see how jumpy he was. 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” There was a bite in his voice he didn’t bother hide. He was sick of being second-guessed, sick of people acting like he was fragile.

Yifan reached down and fastened the buckle that was hanging under Jongdae’s chin. “I won’t hold back,” he said, voice pitched so low that Jongdae could feel the air vibrate around them. Jongdae felt warm all over.

“Good.”

Yifan started the matches a few minutes later. Everyone except Jongdae cleared the floor of the training room, moving to stand flat against the wall, making sure the people fighting would have as much space as possible. Yifan told Yixing he was up first, and based on his reaction, Jongdae got the idea that this was more of a warm-up match than anything else. That didn’t mean it would be easy though.

Yixing didn’t shake his hand or bow or anything like that before their fight; he immediately squared up and threw a punch. Special forces didn’t mess around. Jongdae jumped to the right to avoid the blow and hoped those biotic instincts would kick in some time soon. 

When Yixing threw his second punch, Jongdae knew he wasn’t going to be able to move out of the way fast enough. He raised his arm up to block and was surprised when Yixing’s hand bounced off of a barrier he didn’t know he had put up. He laughed, a breathless sound, sharp but victorious. He could swear he could see Yifan smiling at him out of the corner of his eye.

After biotically blocking a few more of Yixing’s punches, Jongdae was beginning to understand why Yifan might consider him a warm-up for Jongdae. Yixing had nearly perfect form and threw his punches with impressive accuracy, but it was all training. He fought like a student, doing the proper moves at the proper times. He didn’t fight like anyone who had ever fought for his life. He was so easy for Jongdae to block because his blows were telegraphed. Yixing was looking for opportunities rather than creating them.

Jongdae knew he could block Yixing indefinitely, but that wasn’t the objective. He needed to pin Yixing, and that wasn’t coming quite as naturally as not getting hit had. He could try a few punches of his own, but he doubted that would do much of anything against Yixing’s hard carapace. Besides, Jongdae didn’t have much experience in actual fistfights. A few scraps here and there, but most fighting on Valern was done with guns.

If Jongdae could get Yixing near a wall, he might be able to create a barrier around him and hold it long enough that Yixing would be stuck against the mats. It was going to be tricky though; barriers were much more effective against small objects at high speeds, like bullets. A turian boxer, that was a different story.

Jongdae started on the offensive. Instead of just blocking Yixing’s blows, he pushed back a bit with his barrier, causing Yixing to take a step back to counterbalance. They were already close to the right wall. He just needed to get Yixing there without him noticing what Jongdae was doing.

Two quick pushes later, Jongdae was ready to enact his plan. He needed Yixing off-guard, so when Yixing swung again, he didn’t block it, instead letting Yixing’s blow hit him on the side of the head. He was beyond glad for the protective helmet; even with it, the blow rattled him. He feigned a stumble and clutched his head. Yixing reached a hand out and took a half-step forward, clearly trying to check if Jongdae was alright. With Yixing temporarily unbalanced, Jongdae took the opportunity to shove out with a barrier and pin Yixing to the wall.

Yixing struggled but the five seconds passed quickly and Yixing was out. He had known Yixing wouldn’t be okay with the idea that he had actually hurt Jongdae - he telegraphed that nearly as much as his punches - and Jongdae had been able to turn that to his advantage. Looking at the other crew members, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to count on that again.

Yixing clapped him on the shoulder as he passed him to join the others against the wall. Jongdae had the strange feeling he was proud of him.

“Glad that’s done with,” Luhan said as he pushed off the wall. Yixing rolled his eyes.

To Jongdae’s surprise, Minseok moved to join Luhan.

“Ready for a real challenge?” Luhan asked, his smile showing all his teeth. He didn’t wait for Jongdae’s answer.

Luhan came barrelling at Jongdae at full speed, and it was all Jongdae could do to dodge to the side as Luhan swung at him. He gave a little biotic push, testing if he could more than anything, and Luhan stumbled. Real challenge?

Then he felt a hand grab around his ankle. 

Minseok pulled Jongdae’s leg out from under him, and Jongdae went down on one knee, his other leg splayed out behind him. Luhan had already regained his bearings. Minseok pinned Jongdae’s arms behind his back so he couldn’t move, and Luhan punched him hard in the stomach. Jongdae coughed, thoroughly winded, and he tried to catch his breath as he watched Luhan prepare to hit him again.

Jongdae knew he couldn’t let Luhan hit him in the head. If he did, Jongdae would be out for sure; Luhan’s size practically guaranteed it. He wasn’t sure if he could throw up a barrier without his arms, and he didn’t know if he could push Minseok off of him. He did the only thing he could think to do and headbutted Minseok as hard as he could, his padded helmet connecting with Minseok’s unprotected nose, stunning him momentarily. Minseok dropped Jongdae’s arms, and Jongdae whipped them in front of himself in time to throw up a barrier against Luhan’s punch. The weight of the blow reverberated through the barrier, and Jongdae knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand as many from Luhan as he had from Yixing. Luhan was stronger, and he wasn’t pulling his punches. He needed to get one of them out of play. He only had seconds before Minseok re-oriented himself. If only he could get time to stop while he thought.

And there! That was the solution. Not stopping time, obviously, but well, actually, sort of, temporarily, for one of them. He reached out both of his arms toward Luhan and grabbed at the air before pulling them back in toward his body. He grit his teeth against the strain, but kept his grip firm. Luhan struggled against it for a brief moment before going entirely, perfectly still, a blue field glowing around him. It was a stasis field, and Luhan was frozen in it, completely immobilized until Jongdae let the field go. He hadn’t even known he could create something like this, hadn’t even known it was possible, but it seemed like the longer he fought, the more was coming back to him.

Jongdae scrambled to his feet, still holding the stasis field in place. Minseok, for his part, let him, standing as well and moving over to where Luhan was frozen. He pressed his hand against the glowing blue biotic field, testing it. 

“Luhan’s out,” Yifan said, and Jongdae released the field.

If he thought Luhan leaving the fight was going to give him a moment’s rest, he was dead wrong. Minseok pushed his sweaty blonde hair out of his face and began circling him. Jongdae had no idea what Minseok was planning. He had seen Luhan as the bigger threat in the moment, but he knew now he had been mistaken.

Minseok darted forward, and Jongdae braced himself to block a blow. Rather than hit him, he stomped hard on his foot and as Jongdae stumbled, he wound a hand in Jongdae’s hair and yanked, using the leverage to knock him to the ground.

There was a reason Minseok was the dangerous one, and that was because he fought fucking dirty. Jongdae needed to beat him and fast.

Using the stasis field had taken a lot out of him, and he didn’t think he’d be able to use one again. Besides the power drain, he’d needed several seconds to access that kind of power and snap it into place. Now that Minseok had seen him do it once, he would know how to prevent him from doing it again.

Minseok was coming for him again and he was going straight for Jongdae’s throat. Jongdae managed to block his hand before he could grab Jongdae’s neck. He grabbed Minseok’s wrist and twisted hard. Minseok didn’t even flinch. If Minseok was going to fight dirty, Jongdae was going to have to fight dirtier.

Using the same move Minseok had used against him earlier, Jongdae reached out and grabbed Minseok’s ankle and pulled, but he augmented the motion with biotics. Minseok went down on his ass. He quickly rolled to his knees to stand again, but Jongdae threw himself at Minseok’s lower body, trying to pin his legs. Minseok kicked him in the stomach, but Jongdae held on. Minseok rolled them over so he was on top of Jongdae, but Jongdae had expected him to, and before he could wrap his legs around Jongdae’s neck to try to choke him out, Jongdae shoved Minseok’s legs, pushing hard with his biotics. Minseok tumbled legs over head toward the wall and slammed into it. He couldn’t create a stasis field large enough to encompass all of Minseok, but he could pin both of his feet to the wall where they had ended up. Minseok reached up to try to wrangle his legs free, and Jongdae created mini stasis fields around his hands as well. Minseok waited out his five seconds, knowing he had been beaten.

Jongdae helped Minseok to his feet. Minseok was grinning ferally, flush high on his cheeks . “You’re a fast learner.”

Jongdae shrugged. He had the distinct feeling he’d learned all this a long time ago.

Zitao stepped off the wall, twirling his staff. Jongdae was starting to get tired, but that was probably the idea. Each round was meant to wear him out more and more until he couldn’t hold them off anymore.

Jongdae biotically blocked Zitao’s first blow which was aimed at his middle. Zitao quickly swung the staff back the other way and downward, slamming it into the back of Jongdae’s knees Jongdae went down flat on his back and had just enough time to roll to his side to avoid a blow to his chest.

Zitao wielded his staff like he was born with it in his hands, all fluid grace and power. Whereas the other crew members he’d fought were well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, it didn’t seem like their specialty. Zitao, on the other hand, was obviously in his element.

Jongdae needed to put as much distance between himself and Zitao’s staff as possible, but more importantly, he needed to figure out how to get it out of Zitao’s hands. It was a huge advantage that Jongdae has no chance against.

Jongdae rolled into a ball and pushed back against Zitao’s next attempted staff hit, hoping the shock would reverberate through the weapon and unbalance Zitao. Without checking to see if he was right, he got to his feet and ran toward the outer edge of the room. Most of his plan just involved running away from Zitao until he saw an opportunity to get his staff away from him. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very good plan.

Zitao got tired of chasing him very quickly, and Jongdae saw his chance. Zitao spun in a tight circle, allowing the staff to slip down his grip so that he would be holding on to the very end before the padded ball, giving him the reach to hit Jongdae. But before the blow could connect, Jongdae used Zitao’s slackened grip to biotically pull the staff from his hand. It flew into the back wall, nearly hitting Luhan as it whizzed past him. 

Jongdae didn’t have a chance to relish his victory; he had to throw up both his arms to barrier block Zitao’s crane kick.

As he blocked more of Zitao’s blows, he realized Zitao didn’t fight like the others had. Unlike them, Zitao had more flair, favoring flashy moves like spins and flips. It made him harder to predict and gave him momentum that allowed his blows to hit harder. But there might be a way Jongdae could use that inertia against him. Pinning him down wouldn’t be an option, but there was always up.

He needed to goad Zitao into going airborne, and the only way he could think to do it was to run across the room at a full sprint. It was a risk; he was already exhausted and sprinting took most of the energy he had left. What he hoped was that Zitao would pursue him by some other method than running. A front handspring would allow him to cross the distance faster and give him the advantage of using his legs like a battering ram against Jongdae.

Jongdae fought all of his instincts to keep running and bent over, hands on his knees, letting his exhaustion show to Zitao. He needed Zitao to think he was going to beat him handily, so that he didn’t rethink his tendency toward dramatic moves in order to secure a win.

Zitao took the bait even better than Jongdae had hoped. Rather than a front handspring, he threw himself almost sideways into a tight spin, both his feet aiming for Jongdae’s head. Before he could land, Jongdae focused on creating a biotic field around Zitao, using his upward momentum to hoist him into the air and keep him there. He remembered some instructor calling it a mass effect field, and Jongdae could now understand why. He wasn’t just lifting Zitao off the floor, he was using the field he had created to lower Zitao’s mass. He wasn’t so much holding him up as he was manipulating his molecules to make him float, make him lighter than the air around him. Jongdae was suddenly and acutely aware why biotics were considered so powerful.

Without warning, Jongdae’s knees buckled and Zitao dropped to the ground. Luckily, Zitao only fell four feet or so and was able to stand without any noticeable difficulty. He looked as though the fight had hardly winded him. Meanwhile, Jongdae was breathing hard, hands glowing and shaking. Zitao nodded solemnly and left the floor.

Jongdae stumbled to his feet as Yifan stepped off the wall. Yifan was examining Jongdae, waiting to see if he was going to yield. Sweat was pouring down Jongdae’s neck and his sweater was drenched. His right eye was throbbing and a band of pain traveled over the top of his head to the base of his skull. Every muscle in his body ached. But he was going to fight Yifan. There was no stopping, no yielding. He would fight until he couldn’t. It was the only thing he knew.

Yifan circled him slowly as they locked eyes. Whatever Yifan saw must have been enough to convince him that Jongdae wasn’t backing down. His gaze was emotionless as he watched Jongdae and he held himself tall, looking every inch the special forces captain he was. Jongdae tensed as Yifan continued to circle him, anticipating. He had no idea what Yifan’s fighting style would be, and Yifan wasn’t giving him any clues.

And then Yifan attacked.

It became immediately apparent that Jongdae was out of his depth. Yifan was huge, incredibly strong, and knew how to use his size to his advantage. And he wasn’t holding back in the slightest. Jongdae biotically blocked blows that sent shockwaves through his whole body and it was all he could do to hold his barrier to withstand them. He was totally on the defensive, backing up with every hit. Yifan was not only strong, he was also a master of misdirection. Jongdae only had seconds to figure out where he was going to hit and try to block it. He was too weak to try a full body barrier, so he needed to put every ounce of strength he had into protecting the areas Yifan was targeting. 

It was only a matter of time until Jongdae got it wrong. Yifan moved as though to throw a punch at Jongdae’s head, and Jongdae raised his arms to block, leaving his stomach exposed. It happened so fast that Jongdae didn’t see how Yifan had done it, but Yifan’s elbow collided hard with Jongdae’s stomach, and Jongdae fell to his knees, coughing. Yifan grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him to his feet. He was fucked if he didn’t do something fast, anything to get Yifan’s hand off him. So he did the first thing he could think of and slammed his knee into Yifan’s groin.

To absolutely no effect. Fuck. Did turians not have balls or something?

Yifan was gonna hit him in the stomach and he needed to prevent that from happening, so he turned his head as much as he could and sunk his teeth into Yifan’s arm. His skin was rock hard and tasted like metal. There was no way he was going to bite hard enough to draw blood, but he wasn’t trying to. While Yifan was focused on his arm, Jongdae gathered the very last scraps of power he could muster and focused his biotics to kick Yifan in the shin.

They both went down, Jongdae landing painfully against Yifan’s body. He rolled off of Yifan. His head hurt so much worse now. He scrambled to his hands and knees; he would crawl away if he had to, but he was going to get back up. He had no choice.

Yifan’s hand was on his calf, dragging him back. Jongdae’s hands grasped uselessly against the mats on the floor. Yifan was pulling Jongdae back with just one arm, more than strong enough to drag all of Jongdae’s body weight with ease. Jongdae kicked back with his other foot, but failed to hit Yifan. Yifan suddenly yanked with his full force, and Jongdae collapsed, smacking his face into the mat. With a speed someone his size shouldn’t possess, he rolled Jongdae onto his back and straddled him, pressing down on his legs with his and pinning Jongdae’s wrists beneath an unbreakable grip. His face was so close to Jongdae’s that he could hear him panting in his ear, feel his breath on his neck. “Close,” he said, “but not quite.”

Jongdae screwed his eyes shut. All he could feel was weight on top of him, hot breath on his neck. The grip on his wrists was too strong and he was too weak, too small. A voice was laughing, laughing at him, telling him to take it. He wasn’t fighting at all. Why the fuck wasn’t he fighting?

Jongdae was done begging. He was done taking it. He would fight until it killed him.

He took everything he had - his righteousness, his rage, and his damn stubbornness - and pushed.

Yifan went flying off of him and shot across the room. 

The moment the weight was off of him, his head began to clear and he was thrown back to the reality of the training room. It had only been Yifan, and they had only been sparring. He was dizzy and could barely see straight, but he knew something was wrong, that he had fucked up very badly. Yifan was hurtling toward the wall, and with the force Jongdae had thrown him, the impact would snap his spine, mats or no. He didn’t have time to think. He couldn’t let Yifan die because he was fucked in the head.

He pulled a barrier around Yifan. It wouldn’t stop him, but it would dampen the impact. Or at least it would if Jongdae could hold it. His head was pounding, but he refused to let go. 

Yifan hit the wall and slid to the floor. The barrier held.

Yixing ran over to check Yifan. “I’m fine,” Yifan grunted and Zitao and Luhan helped him to his feet.

Jongdae rolled over onto his stomach and struggled to get to his knees. His headache was so bad that the world was starting to go black around the edges. The pain was pulsing behind his eyes and made his neck too stiff to turn. He tried to crawl, but he was so dizzy, his limbs shaking too much to move. His stomach lurched and he threw up. He kept heaving long after his stomach was empty. His vision was swimming and his arms finally gave out, sending him face first onto the floor. He whined, small and pitiful, before he passed out.

“...almost killed you,” Yixing was saying. He and Yifan were standing in the doorway of Yixing’s private office. Jongdae was back in the same bed in the med bay, once again hooked up to an IV. His headache was better than it had been in the training room, but when he opened his eyes, the light still made his head pound. So he decided to keep them closed and let Yixing and Yifan think he was still unconscious.

“But he didn’t,” Yifan said to Yixing.

“Yifan.” Yixing sounded concerned. “Why are you doing all of this? Having him help out was one thing, but this? I know that you - He’s not stable, Yifan, and I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Yifan snapped.

“I know you do. You always do. But it might be nice if you clued the rest of us in.”

The door to Yixing’s office shut, and someone walked over to the chair at Yixing’s desk in the main med bay, sitting down heavily in it. Jongdae heard him sigh and knew it was Yifan.

“How are you feeling?” Yifan asked. Jongdae didn’t ask how Yifan knew he was awake. He probably wasn’t very good at pretending. He opened his eyes and sat up a bit in bed, wincing at the little lances of pain that shot through his body as he did so. “Like I got my ass kicked by a turian.”

Yifan chuckled slightly, but Jongdae could tell he didn’t really find it funny. “I went too hard on you.”

“You said you would. I didn’t say no.” Jongdae shrugged. He hadn’t known anything like this would happen, so how could Yifan?

“Still…” Yifan began but didn’t finish. He was clearly caught up in his own thoughts. He wouldn’t even look at Jongdae.

Jongdae wasn’t sure what Yifan had to feel guilty about. Yifan had done exactly what he said he was going to do. It wasn’t his fault that Jongdae was so profoundly fucked up that he’d turned sparring into a deathmatch.

“So am I going to the brig now?” Jongdae tried to ask casually, even if he was terrified by the prospect. It was the only thing that would make sense at this point. Yifan had taken him in, let him be a part of the crew, temporary as that was, and Jongdae had betrayed him. He was grateful they hadn’t just killed him on the spot.

The resigned guilty look slipped off Yifan’s face. “What? No,” he said quickly. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I did almost kill you. Seems pretty brig-worthy to me.”

“Were you trying to kill me?”

It was Jongdae’s turn to be shocked. “Of course not! But if I hadn’t been as lucky-”

“You saved me, Jongdae.”

“Yeah, from me.”

“Because I was too aggressive. I should have known better.”

Jongdae strongly disagreed, but he knew it would be useless to try to argue against Yifan. If Yifan wanted to place all of the responsibility on himself, there was no way Jongdae could stop him. It didn’t mean that Jongdae would ever believe Yifan was right about this.

“You cried,” Yifan said softly. “When I pinned you, you started crying. Even when you thought we were going to kill you, you didn’t cry.” Yifan was looking down at his hands, a deep frown on his face. “You were terrified, all because I…”

Jongdae didn’t remember crying, couldn’t remember the last time he had. He didn’t think Yifan would lie about it though. He felt bile rise in his throat, his face burning in shame. “It wasn’t you,” Jongdae said. He felt like he had to. He couldn’t let Yifan take on his shitty issues. Yifan was acting like he was some kind of monster, that he had laid Jongdae so low he might have broken him. Jongdae hated that almost as much as he hated himself in that moment. “It wasn’t about you, okay?”

Jongdae tensed. He immediately knew he had said too much. In his haste to assuage Yifan’s guilt, he had brought it out into the open. And he didn’t want to talk about that. He was never going to talk about it, not if he could help it. But Yifan would want to know. He’d want to know and to help and he’d prod. He’d rage on Jongdae’s behalf, like it hadn’t been his choice. He’d look at him, eyes full of pity and misplaced kindness and Jongdae would have to relive everything. He’d have to admit out loud that he was fucked up and probably always would be. And he was just so tired.

“Jongdae,” Yifan said, but Jongdae didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s not a big - It’s nothing. Really. Just forget it.” He was pleading with Yifan with his eyes. Couldn’t he see how much Jongdae wanted him to let it go?

“Jongdae, if something happened-”

“Can you fucking drop it?” he shouted. The sound echoed in the small room. His face was hot and his hands were shaking again. He wrapped his arms around himself to hide it from Yifan.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” Yifan said. “It’s not my - I’m sorry.” He stood and waited, seemingly unsure if he should go to Jongdae or to give him space. After a moment of watching him, he decided on the latter. “You get some rest, and I’ll come check on you later?” It was definitely a question. Yifan was letting Jongdae decide whether to forgive him or not. Yifan didn’t want to overstep again.

“Yeah, okay,” Jongdae said. It wasn’t Yifan’s fault he was like this. None of it was. Between the shame and the headache, he was pretty sure he was going to throw up again.

Jongdae wanted to go back to sleep, but Yixing came out of his office pretty much as soon as Yifan left the med bay. He had likely heard Jongdae yelling and wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt anybody. Yixing didn’t think he was stable, after all. He was probably right.

Yixing didn’t seem wary of Jongdae in light of his outburst. He walked over to Jongdae’s bed and passed his omni-tool scanner over Jongdae’s face. “You know,” he began as checked the results, “before I was stationed on this ship, I worked at the largest military hospital on Palaven.” Yixing went to his desk and sat in the chair Yifan had just vacated. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but there was something imploring in the way he looked at Jongdae. Whatever he was going to say, he needed to know that Jongdae would listen.

“I had been working there for less than a year when I noticed discrepancies in the hospital’s accounting. I brought it to the attention of my superiors, but they told me to let it go. I didn’t. The more I dug into it, the more I realized that the missing money was being redirected to a few very important politicians. I published the information to the Extranet, anonymously of course, but it didn’t take long for them to put two and two together.

“I was immediately blacklisted from the hospital, from most hospitals on Palaven, actually. I’d pissed off some powerful people, and they weren’t afraid to let me know it. One of them decided to send someone after me. Not to kill me, but just to rough me up a bit, let me know that I’d made a mistake messing with his boss. He broke into my apartment while I was sleeping. I survived, obviously. In the end, he didn’t even hurt me that badly.

“But, you know, I still had nightmares about it. I had to move. I couldn’t stay there anymore without feeling like he’d come back. I couldn’t sleep with the lights off. Found all sorts of reasons to stay up all night. And sometimes, if I heard just the right noise, saw the wrong shadow, somebody touched me just so, I’d be right back in it again.”

Yixing was looking at Jongdae knowingly, and Jongdae couldn’t bear it. Had he heard Jongdae and Yifan, or could he just tell from the way Jongdae flinched sometimes, the way his eyes would cloud over as he slipped into a memory?

“PTSD is very treatable, Jongdae,” Yixing was saying, and Jongdae just wanted him to stop. He wanted all of them to stop. To just leave him alone. To stop making him think about it over and over.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, but I don’t - I’m fine,” Jongdae said blankly. Fine. He’d gotten by fine before now. He didn’t need a bunch of turians and their concern dragging up things that were long since over.

“Of course,” Yixing said, but Jongdae could tell he was disappointed. Disappointed in him. It didn’t help Jongdae’s nausea any.

Yixing discharged Jongdae after dinner with instructions to return to the med bay if he felt unwell in any way. Jongdae just wanted to sleep, but couldn’t stand the idea of going to the crew quarters. He didn’t think anyone would mind if he slept on the observation deck again. There was a pillow and a folded blanket waiting for him on the couch when he got there. Yifan must have left them there for him, another way of apologizing.

Jongdae woke to the sound of Yifan placing a mug of tea on the end table next to his head. Jongdae wondered if Yifan had seen him sleeping, or had just hoped Jongdae would be there. Jongdae sat up, took the tea, and nodded his thanks. Yifan smiled back but didn’t say anything. Jongdae hoped that meant that their earlier conversation had been forgotten, that everything between then was okay again. 

Jongdae expected him to leave after delivering the tea, but instead Yifan sat down in the chair and started reading on his tablet. He stayed while Jongdae drank his tea and long after Jongdae drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

As Jongdae turned the corner from the bathroom to go to breakfast, he saw Minseok walk briskly out of his quarters, tablet in hand. Minseok made a beeline straight for where Yifan was sitting.

“Yifan, we need to talk,” he said.

Jongdae hesitated by the doorway for a second before slipping back around the corner. Minseok and Yifan hadn’t seen him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. Whatever Minseok wanted to talk about must have been important, and Jongdae didn’t want to interrupt. He was debating going to the observation deck to give them privacy until he heard what Minseok said next.

“I just saw the briefing. You’re putting Jongdae on the mission team?”

Jongdae knew he should leave and let Minseok and Yifan talk, but he also knew that he wouldn’t. He told himself that if they were going to argue about him, he needed to know what they were saying. Better to know now than be blindsided later on.

“I am,” Yifan said coolly. 

“He doesn’t have any training. This isn’t sparring. We have no idea what we’re walking into. We can’t afford the liability.”

“He has his biotics.”

“Which put him in the med bay yesterday,” Minseok reminded him. “Look, Yifan. I get that you like the kid. Hell, I like him too. But you’re pushing for this way too hard.”

They were getting progressively quieter as the conversation went on until Jongdae needed to press his ear to the wall to be able to hear them.

“Jongdae can handle himself. I need you to trust me on this one, Minseok.”

“I trust you on a lot of things, Yifan. But you’re asking a lot here.”

“I know,” Yifan said, so quietly Jongdae almost missed it. Yifan paused. “Minseok, I think you should know that-”

“Good morning, Jongdae,” Yixing said as he stepped off the lift to the bridge level, completely drowning out whatever Yifan was going to tell Minseok. He took in the sight of Jongdae leaning heavily against the wall. “Are you feeling alright?”

Jongdae straightened up hastily. “Huh? Oh. I’m just - I’m going to get breakfast.” He tried not to look too guilty.

Yixing didn’t seem convinced, but he let it slide. “Better eat fast then. I found the ambassador’s ship last night. Yifan’s going to have the briefing in twenty minutes.” Yixing walked past him around the corner and into the med bay.

There was no point in hiding behind the wall any longer: Yifan and Minseok had to have heard him and Yixing, and they certainly weren’t going to continue their conversation now that they knew they weren’t alone. Jongdae just hoped they wouldn’t guess he was listening in.

He walked into the mess. Yifan was sitting at the table, seemingly absorbed with reading something on his tablet. Minseok was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He watched Jongdae as he walked over to the fridge but didn’t greet him. Jongdae did his best to act natural. Did Minseok know? Minseok was looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time, like he had when he saw Jongdae in the shipping crate, and Jongdae wondered what Yifan could have said to make him act that way.

He took his food to the table and began to eat, trying to ignore the obvious tension in the room. He was still stuck on the conversation he had just overheard. Yifan wanted to put him on the mission team? What was that supposed to mean? Jongdae had assumed he’d stay on the ship while the rest of the crew did investigative shit, or whatever it was they did. But now it seemed like he might be going with them. And it might even be dangerous. Minseok had called him a liability. His pride bristled, but he couldn’t honestly say Minseok was wrong. He wasn’t Special Forces, he was just some dumb kid with a few biotic tricks. He had no idea why Yifan would want to take him along.

Jongdae was surprised to find that the idea didn’t bother him. Shit, it maybe even excited him. He normally tried to avoid dangerous situations whenever possible, his only goal to get out and stay alive. But Yifan wanted to have him be a part of something, and Jongdae felt desperate to be included.

Jongdae scoffed quietly to himself. Who was he kidding? It’s not like he was suddenly part of the crew or something. Yifan wanted his biotics, had told Minseok as much. He would be stupid to think it was anything more than that.

The twenty minutes before the meeting passed incredibly slowly in the silent room. Jongdae felt like he was going out of his mind.

“Wow. Who fucking died?” Luhan asked as he came up the steps from the cargo bay. He stomped over to the fridge and pulled out an energy drink before hopping up on the kitchen counter. “Yifan, is this gonna take long? I need to recalibrate the main weapons systems.”

“Again?” Minseok teased. It was clear he wanted to lighten the mood. Some of the tension drained from Yifan’s shoulders at the change in Minseok’s tone. Whatever he told him, he must have thought Minseok didn’t take it too well.

Luhan just shrugged. “Shit’s finicky.”

Jongdae didn’t have much more time to ruminate as the notification for the briefing pinged on all of their omni-tools a minute later. Yixing came out of the med bay and took a seat at the table next to Jongdae. Zitao was nowhere to be seen.

Yixing saw Jongdae looking around and told him, “Zitao’s patching in from the bridge. We’re too close now to use an automated flight plan.”

Yifan pressed a few buttons on a panel on the wall. “Zitao?” he asked.

“Present,” came Zitao’s reply, tinny over the intercom.

“Good,” Yifan said, moving to the middle of the mess. He seemed to take up the whole room, accepting nothing less than all eyes on him. And they were. Even Luhan had stopped fiddling with his omni-tool and was sitting at rapt attention. Jongdae couldn’t look away. “Let’s get this started. It’s been a little over sixty hours since we lost contact with the ambassador. We’ve attempted to open a communications channel, but haven’t gotten any response. The current operating theory is that the ambassador and his crew are being held for ransom, but since we’ve received no demands, the situation may be more tenuous than an average hostage negotiation. I’m advising the boarding team to be armed and on alert. The team will consist of myself, Yixing, Minseok, and Jongdae. Be prepared for any hostile encounter. Yixing, your first duty is to any wounded. Jongdae, I want you to assist with shields should things go south.”

The crew turned to look at Jongdae. From their lack of verbal response, it seemed like they had all already known. Maybe they had gotten the same pre-briefing Minseok had. It wasn’t fair Jongdae had been kept out of the loop, not when he was going to be involved. He tried to look surprised.

Yifan moved on from that announcement without paying Jongdae’s reaction much mind. “Zitao, what’s our ETA?”

“Roughly thirty minutes, Captain.”

“Alright. Mission team, meet in the cargo bay in thirty. In the meantime, Zitao, Yixing, see if you can find anything else about the ship before we get there. Dismissed.”

Jongdae was in a bit of a daze. He wanted to ask Yifan what he was supposed to be doing, what they expected him to do on the ambassador’s ship, but the captain took off toward the bridge before Jongdae could. Yixing followed close behind him, and Luhan was already heading down the stairs back to the cargo bay. The last thing Jongdae wanted was to be left behind with Minseok, but it was looking like he didn’t have much of a choice in that.

“Jongdae,” Minseok said. “Come with me for a minute.” It wasn’t a request.

Jongdae rose from the table slowly. He was not looking forward to getting chewed out by Minseok, especially when he had no say in the whole mission thing. But Minseok was looking at him expectantly, so he followed him, barely a step behind, into Minseok’s quarters.

Minseok’s room was so organized and clean that it was almost sterile. Jongdae stood in the middle of room and avoided touching anything. He expected Minseok to turn on him as soon as the door slid shut, but he headed straight for the closet instead.

“Look,” Jongdae began. He wanted to preempt whatever Minseok was planning to say when he got done rummaging in his closet. “I didn’t know Yifan was going to put me on the mission team. I didn’t ask him to or anything. I can try talking to him, but I don’t know if-”

Minseok straightened back up, a bundle of shiny black fabric and a helmet in his arms. He walked back over to where Jongdae was standing and held the clothing out to him. Jongdae took it warily, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Armor,” Minseok explained. “If you’re coming with us, you’re gonna need armor. It’s not as heavy as ours, but it should fit.”

Minseok smirked as Jongdae gaped at him. Hadn’t Minseok been adamantly against Jongdae’s inclusion less than thirty minutes ago? And now he was giving his armor like nothing had happened?

“You’re right. I’m not thrilled about this,” Minseok said. “I think you’re inexperienced and I’d rather not take the risk. But Yifan has his reasons, and I respect them. And, well, you did kick my ass yesterday.” Minseok’s pride didn’t seem hurt by the admission. He was still smirking, but it was starting to soften around the edges. “You should go put that on before too much longer.” He nodded at the armor in Jongdae’s arms.

“Right, yeah,” Jongdae said, feeling a bit disoriented. He wanted to ask Minseok what Yifan’s reasons were, felt that maybe he had a right to know, but he knew Minseok wouldn’t tell him. Minseok was only forthcoming when he wanted to be.

“And, Jongdae,” Minseok called after him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna do just fine.”

Jongdae stepped into the bathroom a few moments later. He was still confused by, well, everything that had happened that morning, but he didn’t really have the time to dwell on it. The pitch black armor was all one piece and had boots attached to the bottom. When he held it up, it looked tiny, and Jongdae worried that it wasn’t going to fit. But it had fit Minseok, and it had a decent amount of stretch, so it was worth a try. He quickly realized he wasn’t going to be able to wear anything under it, which he wasn’t a huge fan of. He stripped and pulled the armor on, fumbling a bit with the zipper that ran up the length of his back. Even though he didn’t have the muscles Minseok did, the armor fit him snugly, highlighting his thin body in a way that made him feel very exposed. He was being stupid. As long as it protected him, what did he care what it looked like? Nobody was going to be looking at him anyways. They had a mission to complete, and he wasn’t so narcissistic to think his discomfort took priority.

Jongdae still had fifteen minutes until Yifan had told them to meet, but he didn’t have anything else to do to prepare, so he took the stairs down to the cargo bay. He was pleased to find that despite the tight fit, the armor moved with him fluidly; he would have all the range of motion he needed for his biotics, or to run if it came to that. 

Yifan was already there, opening up weapons cases and putting guns on a workbench. He was wearing thick matte black armor. The interlocking plates made his shoulder look even broader than normal. Even now, Jongdae felt a little intimidated. He wondered how Yifan’s enemies must feel.

Yifan looked up when he heard Jongdae approach and place his helmet on a nearby crate. His eyes scanned over Jongdae’s body, and Jongdae felt his cheeks flush, more self-conscious than ever. He didn’t understand why Yifan would be looking at him so intently; maybe he had put the armor on wrong.

Yifan cleared his throat and busied himself with the guns again. “It, um, fits you well,” he said, a bit stilted.

“Yeah, Minseok and I are about the same size, so…” Jongdae trailed off awkwardly. In the armor, there was nowhere for his hands to go, so he crossed them in front of his body, wrapping his fingers around his upper arms. He didn’t want to be talking about armor. He wanted to tell Yifan that Minseok was right, that he didn’t have the experience - the skill even - to come on the mission with them. Yesterday had been a fluke or something, not an actual indication of his ability. He hated to admit it, but he was scared. He was scared of the potential danger, obviously - it would be the first time he was heading for trouble rather than it coming for him. But he was also afraid of putting the crew in danger, Yifan in danger, because he wasn’t ready, wasn’t good enough.

Yifan thought he was good enough though. He must have. He wouldn’t bring Jongdae on the team just to be nice. He had fought Jongdae yesterday and it had left enough of an impression that he was willing to take the risk, training or no. Jongdae didn’t want to let him down.

As if he could sense Jongdae’s inner turmoil, Yifan stopped unpacking the guns. “I should have asked first,” he said, “before putting you on the mission.” It was an apology, even if he didn’t say it.

Jongdae shrugged, though his arms were still crossed in front of his chest. Yeah, Yifan probably should have. At least should have told him about it before the briefing. “It’s not like I’d be doing anything else anyways.”

The thing was, throughout all of this, Jongdae hadn’t thought about saying no for a second. He had questioned himself, questioned the wisdom of Yifan’s decision, but he hadn’t questioned the fact that he knew that when Yifan boarded the ambassador’s ship, he’d be right there with him. He wasn’t part of the crew: Yifan’s orders didn’t apply to him. But Jongdae knew he’d follow them all the same.

The ‘why’ was still weighing on him, though. It was hard not to follow a man like Yifan. He hadn’t trusted a single person in his whole life, and yet, in barely three days, he trusted Yifan; hadn’t really thought twice about it. But Jongdae was just some stowaway, unstable, a liability, fucked up beyond belief. Why would Yifan even think about trusting him?

“Why me?” Jongdae blurted on without meaning to, his need to know practically forcing the question out before he could rein it back in.

Yifan opened his mouth and promptly shut it again. He hesitated, like he knew the answer, but wasn’t sure he should say it. “Your biotics are very powerful,” he said finally. Jongdae was pretty sure that was only half the truth.

Before he had a chance to ask anything else, Minseok and Yixing descended the stairs into the cargo bay. They were both wearing the exact same armor as Yifan, black and heavy. Jongdae assumed it must be Special Forces standard issue. His armor wouldn’t be nearly as effective against a bullet, but he had his biotics for that.

Minseok walked over to the workbench where Yifan had unloaded the guns. He grabbed a pistol, assault rifle, and a shotgun in quick succession, strapping the rifle and shotgun onto his back and the pistol at his hip. He picked up a sniper rifle, but thought better of it, and placed it back on the table. Jongdae figured it wouldn’t do much good in the confines of a ship. Yixing took two pistols and handed one to Jongdae. Jongdae turned the gun over in his hands. It was much lighter than the guns he had used on Valern, and it folded up into a compact rectangle when not in use. He slid the gun into the holster at his hip. He knew it was a trick of his mind, but it felt far heavier there, like he’d never get used to the weight.

“Captain,” Zitao said over the intercom. “We’re two minutes out.”

“Any updates?” Yifan asked while fastening a truly huge assault rifle to his back.

“There’s no external damage, but the ship’s definitely crippled. Just oxygen and gravity - emergency power.”

“They probably surrendered,” Minseok said. “The ambassador’s ship only has the one gun, and they couldn’t outrun most pirate ships for long.”

Yifan nodded. It was a plausible theory. “Yixing, if we have the time, see what you can turn on when we get inside. I want to know if there are any logs.”

“They still haven’t answered any of our hails,” Zitao added. “I doubt there’s anyone left to do so.”

“It’s unlikely,” Minseok said, “but we should be careful it’s not a trap. They’d have to know someone would come for the ambassador. Maybe they’re hoping to catch a bigger fish.”

Yifan hummed. “Maybe. But we haven’t picked up any other ships on the long-range scanners. It would be an awfully big risk to stay on a stranded ship for that long. Best to stay on our guard either way.”

The steady hum of the ship shifted abruptly, making a loud grinding noise before evening out again. “Hard seal in forty seconds, Captain,” Zitao informed them.

“Everybody ready?” Yifan asked, but he was looking directly at Jongdae.

Jongdae didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded.

There was a dead turian less than five feet from the airlock. He had been shot point blank in the head. The dried blue blood puddle under him looked almost black in the red glow of the emergency lights. His pistol was still attached to his hip.

“So much for surrender,” Minseok said.

Yixing knelt by the body and gave it a quick scan with his omni-tool. “Definitely one of the ambassador’s people. Looks to have been dead roughly three days. They probably shot him as soon as they boarded.”

“Probably to keep the others in line,” Minseok agreed. “Lot more civilians than military on a ship like this.”

“Yixing, Minseok, head to the bridge and try to restore power. I want to know what happened here,” Yifan said. “Jongdae and I will clear the rest of the ship.”

“Yifan,” Yixing said as he stood up. "Would you scan anyone you find? I’d like to cross-reference them against the manifest, inform the families.”

“Of course,” Yifan said solemnly. “Keep in contact over comms.”

Jongdae was still staring at the body. It wasn’t like he had never seen a dead body before - when you ran with a gang it was pretty hard to avoid. But this was different. On Valern, it had been after a firefight, a quick glance before grabbing what they came for and getting the hell out of there. He didn’t stick around to keep looking. This body was so still there could be no mistaking how dead he really was. Jongdae was glad for his helmet because he was pretty sure the smell would have been awful.

“Are you okay?” Yifan asked gently.

Jongdae’s head snapped up. They were alone in the dark hallway, Minseok and Yixing having already left to find the bridge. He had no idea what his face must look like, but it must have been pretty grim for Yifan to be looking at him with such concern.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little distantly. He didn’t look back down at the body. He both was fine and he wasn’t. He was used to death, the idea of it, but the reality was newer. He was already starting to put it into a little box in his mind, and that thought disturbed him almost as much as the body had initially. All he felt now was a sense of relief that it wasn’t him lying there.

Jongdae stepped over the body, moving down the corridor that led to the rest of the ship. “We should get moving.”

Yifan was holding his jaw tense, looking like he was debating sending Jongdae back to the ship. But, ultimately, he stepped over the body, too. He pulled the rifle off of his back and let it unfurl open. “I’ll take point,” he said.

Even with Yifan’s rifle’s flashlight illuminating the path before them, Jongdae still felt spooked. It was freezing despite his suit and far too quiet. He had gotten used to the mechanical hum of the engines on Yifan’s ship. This ship felt as dead as its occupants. The only sounds were the occasional clicking of the oxygen vents and Jongdae’s own breathing, loud in his ear.

“Two more dead on the bridge,” Minseok said over the comm channel. “Yixing’s working to get the main systems up and running.”

“Keep me updated,” Yifan said back.

The first room Jongdae and Yifan came across had a single bed and a desk in the corner. He assumed this must be the ambassador’s room. It was nicely-decorated but sparse. Despite the circumstances, it looked untouched. If the ambassador had been in here when they were boarded, he must have gone willingly.

While Yifan opened the closet and checked under the bed, Jongdae went over to the desk. There was a tablet sitting on it that looked hastily discarded, clutter in the otherwise organized space. He tried the display and found that it didn’t require a password. There was only one file on it, so Jongdae opened it.

Pirates are boarding. Suspect we will be taken for ransom. They haven’t said what they want. Cut comms so we can’t contact Hierarchy. They might know

The message cut off there, as though the ambassador had run out of time. Overall, it didn’t seem very helpful, but he showed it to Yifan all the same. Why would the ambassador take the time to write this? If he thought they were going to be ransomed, the turian military would find out long before anyone found the ship. And why had he deleted all of the other files on the tablet? What did he think the pirates might know?

Yifan was frowning at the tablet, as if he could force it to give up more information under the weight of his displeasure. He sent the message to his omni-tool. “Let’s keep going.”

The crew quarters were in a similar state to the ambassador’s room - pristine and well-maintained. There wasn’t anything in the room to suggest that anyone had been there when the ship was boarded. After a cursory search, Yifan decided they should move on.

There were three bodies in the mess. They were slumped against the back wall, backs facing Jongdae and Yifan. Their hands had been tied behind them. Each of them was shot in the back of the head. There was no sign that any of them had put up a fight.

Yifan walked over to the bodies and scanned over their joined hands, where their omni-tools would be. Jongdae guessed he was cloning the personal identification credentials for Yixing to compare to the manifest.

There were two hard clicking noises and then the lights in the mess flickered and came on. Yixing must have restored the power. Jongdae could see the blood splatter on the walls now. His legs felt a bit numb.

“The ship only had a crew of eight, including the ambassador,” Yixing said over the comm. He must have gotten Yifan’s scans.

“I don’t understand,” Jongdae said suddenly, though the confusion had been swirling around in his mind since he read the ambassador’s message. “If they wanted a ransom, why kill all these people? I mean, the more people, the more money they can ask for, right? And they surrendered. Killing them doesn’t make any sense.”

Yifan didn’t say anything for a moment, and Jongdae was worried he had overstepped. He was there for his biotics, not to offer up ideas. But then Yifan said, “Unless they weren’t looking for a ransom.”

“You think they were targeting the ambassador for other reasons?” Minseok asked.

“Look at it this way,” Yifan continued. He was pacing, but so minimally that if Jongdae hadn’t been watching him intently, he wouldn’t have noticed. “It’s been almost three days and they’ve yet to make any demands. They killed almost the entire crew. And in the ambassador’s message, he said they might know something, something only the ambassador knew, something that was worth kidnapping him for.”

“Then there’s no guarantee that the ambassador is still alive,” Minseok said. “And we don’t have any information about where they may have taken - who they are, even.”

Yifan stopped moving. This revelation left them with even more questions and very few answers. They were pretty much at a dead end as far as Jongdae could tell. It seemed like Yifan knew it, too.

“Have you seen signs of the final crew member yet? I only have six scans.” Yixing interrupted their musings. It was smart, Jongdae thought, directing them back to a task they could accomplish.

“We’re about to clear the cargo bay,” Yifan said. “Yixing, see if you can pull up any of the ambassador’s private files - find out what could be important enough to attract this kind of attention.”

“Most of the data’s been wiped clean, but I’ll do what I can.”

To the right of the bodies was a door Jongdae could only assume led to the cargo bay. Unlike Yifan’s larger ship, this ship was all one level. Yifan turned off the flashlight on his rifle, but he didn’t put it away. He made sure to keep it at the ready as he opened the door. Jongdae thought that maybe he should take his gun out too, even though it didn’t seem likely that anyone would be lying in wait for them. He figured Yifan’s over-preparedness was a byproduct of his rigid training, so he followed him into the cargo bay, gun holstered.

Jongdae had expected to see a turian’s body when they got inside - this one had collapsed in front of a workbench, face down, arms outstretched, like he was trying to crawl away - but the human leaned against a crate was a surprise. It was obvious that there had been a fight. There was a dented blowtorch near the turian’s body. When he looked closer at the human, he saw that parts of his armor was melted onto his chest and neck. The glass front of the human’s helmet had been smashed in, and half of his face was charred black. 

Jongdae shivered. He hoped Yifan didn’t see it, but luckily, Yifan was too busy examining the dead turian to notice him.

Yifan turned the turian over onto his back. He had been shot twice in the gut. Jongdae wondered how long it had taken him to bleed out.

Maybe the turian had heard his crewmates being shot and decided not to go down quietly. Or maybe he had been the one to instigate it, refusing to surrender when the others had. Maybe the boarders had killed the rest in retaliation. Either way, it didn’t matter; he was dead now.

It didn’t stop Jongdae from thinking, though. It would make sense if he had attacked the human after the others had been shot, but if he hadn’t? If he hadn’t, why hadn’t he just surrendered? He had to have known attacking was going to get him killed. Sure, maybe he was going to die anyways, but at least if he surrendered, he might have had a chance to get out of it. Even if he killed this one guy, there were others and no one was coming to help him. Why would he do that?

“We’ve got the body of one of the boarders here,” Yifan was saying. Jongdae tore his eyes away from the dead human to focus on Yifan. A headache was starting to form at the base of his skull. He wished he could rub at the muscles there, but his helmet was in the way. He settled for rolling out his shoulders.

“He’s human,” Yifan continued. “Not wearing any known gang insignia.”

“Could he be Alliance?” Minseok asked without reservation. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he was accusing the human government of truce-breaking aggression.

“No,” Yifan concluded after a moment’s assessment, “his armor’s a model or two behind current specs. This group is probably working on its own.” Yifan lifted the human’s wrist and placed his own alongside it. “I’m cloning his omni-tool and forwarding the data to the ship.”

“I’ll see if I can find anything useful,” Yixing said. “I haven’t had any luck with the ship’s database. Seems like the ambassador covered his tracks too well.”

Yifan stood and motioned for Jongdae to follow him back into the mess. “Finish up with the computer and meet us back on the ship in five.”

“Acknowledged.”

Jongdae was happy to follow Yifan off of the ambassador’s ship. It took everything he had not to push past him to beat him to it. He’d thought he'd been around too much death for it to ever sit comfortably with him. The fact that that might not be true one day wasn’t something he wanted to accept.

Back in their own cargo bay, Jongdae removed his helmet as fast as the pressurization system would allow. He took a great gulp of air, the fresher air of the ship chasing away some of the nausea he was feeling. Yifan was making a point not to watch him, his back turned, taking off his own helmet very slowly. 

“Claustrophobic,” Jongdae explained shakily. It was partially the truth. “I’ll get over it.”

Jongdae could see Yifan nodding. He was probably sick of asking Jongdae if he was okay at this point.

Minseok and Yixing came through the airlock, and Minseok shut it behind them.

“I’ll go see what I can get off that omni-tool,” Yixing said after taking off his helmet.

Minseok collected everyone’s guns. He was giving Jongdae that assessing look again when he took the pistol from his hand. Jongdae was worried that his face was too pale. He still felt cold. But Minseok didn’t comment on those things.”I’ll clean up down here, Yifan.”

Yifan escorted Jongdae up the stairs to the mess. He placed a tentative hand on Jongdae’s shoulder and Jongdae tensed immediately. He tried to hide it, but Yifan winced as he saw it, and drew his hand back. “Why don’t you go take a shower?” he suggested. “Rest a bit.”

Jongdae nodded. It seemed like the right thing to do anyways. But his feet weren’t moving him towards the bathroom. Yifan wasn’t going anywhere either.

“What’s going to happen to them - the bodies, I mean?” Jongdae found himself asking. He didn’t know why. Did he even care? He just wanted them out of his mind, somewhere he couldn’t see them pressing against the back of his eyes.

“Oh.” Yifan was clearly caught off-guard by the question. “I’ll contact the military, give them the navpoint. They’ll send someone to go retrieve them.”

Jongdae nodded again. That was good. That was probably the best thing.

“Jongdae-”

“I’m gonna go take that shower now.” Jongdae turned and walked out of the mess as fast as he could without running.

Jongdae didn’t know how long he’d been in the shower, but it had been long enough that he heard a knock on the door followed by Minseok asking if he wanted something to eat. Jongdae said yes even though he didn’t feel much like eating, and hasilty dried himself off and dressed. He didn’t want to keep Minseok waiting. He was already worried what Minseok must be thinking about him. Whether he thought he was right to doubt Jongdae’s place on the mission team.

Yixing was sitting at the table in the mess, furiously typing something into his omni-tool. He had a laptop whirring through lines of code at top speed. His tray of food was virtually untouched. He picked up his tablet, punched a few buttons, and then sighed heavily before placing it back down. He leaned both of his elbows on the table and dropped his head in his hands. Whatever he was working on, it wasn’t going well.

Jongdae accepted a tray from Minseok and sat down gingerly on the bench, worried about disturbing Yixing. Yixing didn’t even seem to notice.

After another moment, Yixing raised his head and turned his attention back to his omni-tool. He scrolled through the display one final time, then stood up and walked over to the intercom on the wall.

“Yifan?” he asked as he pressed the button.

“Go for Yifan,” came Yifan’s almost immediate reply. He must have been waiting for Yixing to call.

“The encryption on the boarder’s omni-tool - it’s stronger than I expected. I could crack it here, but it would take a while, maybe even a couple of days. I don’t think the ambassador has that kind of time.”

‘If he’s still alive’ was left unspoken.

“Understood,” Yifan said. “I’ll contact the admiral, see if he can’t divert some of the Intelligence servers. Yifan out.” The intercom line clicked and went silent.

Dinner was quiet after that. Yixing was clearly still frustrated with the encryption and his lack of progress. He would occasionally scroll through the display on his laptop, but he said nothing. Minseok must have had something to do because he disappeared into his quarters a few moments later, taking his meal with him. Jongdae ate hurriedly, feeling a bit suffocated by the tension coming off of Yixing. Maybe that’s why Minseok had left so quickly, though he didn’t seem like someone who would be overly bothered by that. It wasn’t really worth dwelling on, and Jongdae finished his food and washed up as fast as he could before heading to the observation deck.

He didn’t really know why he had gone there - except he did know, actually. The deck was the one place on the ship he felt entirely calm, and he really needed to stop pretending that he just happened upon the room whenever he was stressed. He would sleep here again tonight, and the next, and however many nights he was on Yifan’s ship. And he secretly hoped Yifan would visit for every one.

Of course, Yifan was busy, probably way too busy to visit Jongdae every night. He wondered if Yifan would come tonight. He would probably be stressed about his call with the admiral, but he would do his best not to let Jongdae see it, even if he knew Jongdae knew. He would bring him tea. He wouldn’t press about Jongdae’s reaction to the mission, but he would be willing to talk. Maybe even tell Jongdae about his first mission. He would stay until Jongdae fell asleep, tuck him in, but they would both pretend he hadn’t.

Jongdae pulled the blanket more tightly over him on the couch. He realized he was smiling. He touched the corner of his mouth, like he had to check he was really doing it. This was getting ridiculous. He was grinning like a lunatic over some domestic fantasy. As if he didn’t have more important things to worry about.

Eventually, Yifan was going to drop him off on another planet, and he’d have to start all over again. Go back to hiding who he was, looking over his shoulder all the time. This would fade away like all the other memories did. He really wished he could keep it.

Funny how the only thing he’d wanted three days ago filled him with dread now. He had been dying to get off this ship, and now?

He heard Yifan come through the door. His steps were measured, like he was placing each one very carefully. “Hello, Jongdae,” he said as he reached the chair next to the couch. He sat down without asking Jongdae if he minded, but he did so hesitantly, as though he was ready to spring up the minute Jongdae changed his mind. Jongdae wasn’t going to, though.

“The admiral was able to put resources toward the decryption. We should have the data in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jongdae said, mostly for something to say. It wasn’t like he knew anything about how this all worked. Still, it was nice that Yifan was informing him. He guessed Yifan might have felt obligated to, since Jongdae was on the mission and all.

Jongdae was on the mission. Suddenly, Yifan’s tension made sense - if he’d had to contact the admiral, he would have had to have given him the mission report, right? And it probably wasn’t going to look very good that some random kid had tagged along. Maybe he had just been chewed out by his boss or something. Turian military seemed pretty rigid - this was probably the kind of thing they’d be pissed about.

“Are you in a lot of trouble? With your boss, I mean?” Jongdae asked. Even though it had been Yifan’s decision to take him along, take him in in the first place, Jongdae still felt guilty about it.

“‘Trouble’?” Yifan repeated. He seemed a bit dazed, like he wasn’t really out of whatever thought Jongdae had pulled him from. 

“You know, ‘cause of me.” Jongdae picked at his nail. He didn’t know why he was inviting Yifan’s potential ire. Like he wanted Yifan to tell him it was all his fault. That he wasn’t worth it. Even if those things might be true.

“Oh.” Yifan paused before admitting, “I didn’t actually tell him about you.”

Jongdae didn’t bother to hide his shock. That had to be some huge breach in protocol or something. There was no way Yifan was allowed to leave something as big as a human stowaway off his report without repercussions.

“I’m allowed to choose consultants at my discretion,” Yifan said. He said it as though it were to be above reproach, but it came out too awkward, too shifty.

“So I’m a consultant now?” Jongdae couldn’t help but laugh. Consultant. Like he was actually trained or some shit.

“I don’t see why not.”

“If you wanted a biotic consultant, I bet the military would fall all over itself to get you the best they had. Not some second-rate lab rat.” It was the truth and they both knew it.

Yifan protested anyways. “Jongdae-”

“Yifan, there isn’t one thing I have that you couldn’t get from anybody more qualified. It’s stupid to-”

But there was one thing. Something Jongdae had offered once before on the cold med bay floor. If Yifan had wanted a biotic, he could have anyone, long before now. Maybe he was more interested in the extra perks.

He’d seemed so offended at the time, but maybe he’d come around in the past few days. Maybe he got curious, or maybe he was just lonely. It probably wasn’t about Jongdae at all, just someone there, willing. And Jongdae would do it, if that’s what it took.

“It’s cool. I mean, the offer’s still good.”

“What offer?”

Jongdae didn’t want to spell it out, but what other choice did he have? “Well...sex? It’s no big deal. I get something, you get something. Not like I’m new to it. Plenty of guys’ve done it before.”

Yifan didn’t say anything. Jongdae had to stop picking at his nail for fear of tearing the whole thing off. 

“Don’t you think that’s exactly why we can’t?” Yifan asked after a long moment.

Jongdae’s throat tightened. His stomach felt like it dropped straight to the floor. He was worried he was going to puke all over the blanket he now had a death grip on. He couldn’t bear to look at Yifan. There was no way he could face whatever he saw there.

Don’t you think that’s exactly why we can’t? He had sounded resigned, like he didn’t know why Jongdae didn’t just fucking understand, but he knew explaining wouldn’t do him any good. But he also sounded upset. Maybe he was pissed Jongdae would even offer in the first place, when he had been so handily rejected before. After all, Jongdae had been with so many men he’d lost count. Let who knows how many put their hands on him, do whatever they liked with him. No wonder Yifan was disgusted. Jongdae was, too. Even if they had given food or meds or whatever, he still could have done it differently. Fucking them was the easy way out, and he was a coward.

His eyes were prickling with tears and his hands were shaking where he held the blanket.

Because of course Yifan deserved better than Jongdae. Yifan was brilliant, and fiercely protective, and so so kind. He listened and he cared, even about some fuck-up like Jongdae. He deserved someone pristine, someone who could give him a hell of a lot more than Jongdae could. And Yifan had made that clear, hadn’t he? God, he must think Jongdae was filthy. Jongdae didn’t even have it in him to be mad because he fucking was. He was a filthy street whore who spent three days with people who actually mattered and thought he was somebody. They could clean him up, but he’d always be trash.

“I get it.” He laughed but it sounded all wrong even to his ears, like he didn’t quite know how it was supposed to sound. He was standing up without realizing it, his body recognizing his need to be almost anywhere else.

“Jongdae, that’s not-”

He could barely hear Yifan over the rushing in his ears. “It’s whatever. I was just...I just-”

And before he knew what was happening, he was running out of the room.

He didn’t realize he had gotten on the lift until the doors slid open and it dinged its arrival on the bridge level. He had been too concerned with getting as far away from Yifan as possible. For a moment, he half considered going back down, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere better to go. He knew Zitao would be on the bridge - apparently he always was - but he was hoping he wouldn’t mind Jongdae sitting in some corner for a little bit, at least until he felt like he could face Yifan without the shame burning him up from the inside.

The bridge wasn’t what Jongdae had expected it would be. Of course there was a great big window and a huge console that took up most of the room. There were two chairs and Zitao was sitting at one of them, watching something on a screen, and ignoring Jongdae entirely. But the walls were covered in what appeared to be multicolored scarves. They hung down nearly to the floor in some parts and there didn’t seem to be any pattern to their placement. A few hung down over the doorway, making a gauzy curtain Jongdae had to push aside as he entered. There was a cot against the left wall, standard issue except for the handmade quilt folded neatly at the foot. On the other side of the room, there was something that could have been a small shrine, but Jongdae didn’t want to approach it to get a better look. The room smelled of herbs and smoke.

“Are you going to sit?” Zitao asked without turning around.

Jongdae had known interacting with Zitao was part of his plan, but now that he was actually here, he didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted. He really didn’t want to explain why he was hiding.

Zitao didn’t ask him again. He seemed fine with letting Jongdae deliberate in the doorway. After what felt like a long while, Jongdae crossed the room to the other chair at the console and sat down, pulling his legs up so that his heels rested against the seat. The chair spun away from Zitao as he did so, and he hastily reached out to the console to turn the chair back.

“I thought I might see you here,” Zitao said. He was still looking at the screen. Jongdae followed his gaze to an image of a small black-and-white Yifan sitting on the observation deck, staring at the stars. If not for the time blinking in the corner, Jongdae might have thought it was a photograph - Yifan was that still. He wondered what Yifan was thinking about. Probably how soon they could dump Jongdae off. Would he be glad when Jongdae was gone?

If Zitao was looking at this video of Yifan, then that meant he had probably watched Jongdae run out of there. He hoped there wasn’t any audio; he couldn’t take any more humiliation. He wanted to ask, but that might mean he’d need to talk about it, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Zitao wasn’t scorning him, wasn’t threatening him away from Yifan, so maybe he hadn’t heard. But seeing him break down in panic again - for the third time, his brain helpfully supplied - made Jongdae want to run and lock himself in the bathroom. He sighed. There were probably cameras in there, too. There probably wasn’t a place on the ship that he wouldn’t be watched. Which means Zitao had likely seen everything. The panic attack in the crew quarters, his tea ritual with Yifan - things he had desperately wanted to keep private.

“You’ve been watching me,” Jongdae said. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t hide the resentment he felt. Those things should be his and his alone.

“I watch the ship,” Zitao said mildly.

But Jongdae knew there was more to it. He was sure he didn’t check on Yifan in his quarters or Yixing in his private office. “You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t really an accusation, mostly because Jongdae was resigned. After all, why should Zitao trust him?

Zitao looked away from the console for the first time. He made eye contact with Jongdae, and Jongdae found himself quickly blinking away. Zitao’s gaze was as intense as the man himself.

“No, Jongdae, I don’t trust you. But impaired though he may be at the moment, Yifan does, and that’s enough for me.”

Once again, Jongdae was surprised by Yifan’s crew’s unfailing loyalty to him. Surprised might be the wrong word. Impressed was more like it. He couldn’t be surprised, not when he had felt it too, that pull Yifan had. And now he had gone and messed up any chance he had at… what, exactly?

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Zitao wasn’t one for small talk, and Jongdae didn’t know how to respond to Zitao’s declaration. Instead, he watched the tiny figure of Yifan on the screen and told himself it couldn’t possibly hurt as much as it did.

An alert buzzed on Zitao’s omni-tool, and he shut it off before standing and stepping out from in front of the chair. He walked over to the corner shrine and kneeled in front of it. Jongdae felt like maybe he shouldn’t be watching as Zitao bowed his head. After he was done praying, he struck a match and lit the incense in the bowl on the shrine’s altar. Jongdae tried to imagine Yifan or Luhan at the altar, but found the thought strange to entertain.

“You aren’t like the rest of them,” Jongdae said, and immediately cringed. What a fucking stupid thing to say.

“Astute,” Zitao replied, and Jongdae couldn’t tell if he was mocking him or not; his natural tone was too bland to make that kind of distinction. “Very few of my kind still practice the old ways, it’s true.”

Jongdae knew it would be rude to ask, but he was more curious than he had expected to be. Maybe he wanted the key to Zitao’s behavior. Or maybe he just wanted a distraction from his own thoughts. Either way, he found himself asking, “What are the old ways, exactly?”

Zitao didn’t answer and Jongdae regretted his impulsivity. “I shouldn’t have - you don’t - sorry,” he mumbled.

He had just resigned himself to spending the next while in awkward silence when Zitao patted the space next to him on the cushion he was kneeling on. It was an obvious invitation for Jongdae to join him. Warily, Jongdae got up from his seat and kneeled next to Zitao. Up close, he could see that the shrine had a stone disc balanced behind the incense bowl. There were twelve symbols around the edge of it. Some were familiar - an hourglass, a phoenix - but others didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before.

“Centuries ago, turian worshipped the Titans. They were advanced beings beyond our comprehension and they were thought to have created Palaven and everything on it.” Zitao trailed a talon along the markings on the disc. “There were twelve, and they were ruled by the Lord of Time.” He tapped the symbol of the hourglass in the center at the top. “He controlled the cycles - the passage of all souls from this world to the next. His lover, the Lord of Fire, was responsible for reaping those souls. He was feared by a great many; even today, he is spurned by my people.”

“But not you?” Jongdae asked. The way he had spoken about him had sounded reverent, not frightened.

“My people forget that while the Lord of Earth may have sculpted the first turians, it was the Lord of Fire who forged them. Many died to his flames, but those who survived were stronger for it, and those turians were our ancestors.”

Zitao paused and seemed to visibly pull himself out of the story. “As we began to learn more about our world, people began to doubt. Once we reached the stars, the Titans were regarded as fairy tales. When faced with science, it was hard for them to believe in gods. Especially gods who had vanished and left behind only legends. Some people believe they’re still out there, traveling the stars, but most believe they never existed at all.”

Jongdae supposed he could agree with that. The universe was too vast to tie its creation to just a few entities. It was too neat to explain everything away in myths and stories. Things just happened.

Zitao must have known that. He knew his people felt that way at least. But here he was with his shrine and he prayers anyways. Jongdae couldn’t understand it.

“Do you believe? That they’re out there?” It was a dumb question; Zitao wouldn’t do all this if he didn’t. But it was the closest thing he could ask without asking why.

Zitao was quiet, and Jongdae worried he had grievously offended him. It wasn’t his place to question Zitao’s beliefs.

“Faith is a skill, I think,” Zitao said after a while. “Like your biotics. We practice in the hopes that one day we might master it.”

It wasn’t really an answer. But it also wasn’t a yes.

The intercom buzzed and Zitao got to his feet to answer it, leaving Jongdae still kneeling at the shrine. As soon as the channel opened, Yifan started speaking.

“Zitao, we have the ship’s flight plan. I’ve sent you the intercept coordinates. We’ll have to go sublight and engage the stealth systems after we go through the relay. We can’t let them pick us up on their sensors.”

“Understood, captain. I’ll plot the jump now.”

“We’ll have the mission briefing as soon as we’re through the relay. Yifan out.”

Jongdae had hoped he’d be able to hide out from Yifan for a few hours longer, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. Zitao was throwing switches on the console and pressing various buttons on the displays that were lit up in front of him. The ship lurched suddenly. Jongdae looked up and saw that the stars and empty space that had filled the bridge’s window before had been replaced by a massive mass effect relay. They were close enough that he couldn’t see the ends of the structure, just the giant blue mass effect field that made up its core. Zitao was driving straight for it, preparing to use the network to travel, well, anywhere in the galaxy. Jongdae had never thought he’d see a relay in real life, and now he was about to go through one.

Zitao caught him gaping and smirked. “You may want to hold on to something.”


	6. Chapter 5

It was with great trepidation that Jongdae boarded the lift down to the main level for the mission briefing. He had wanted to stay on the bridge with Zitao so that he wouldn’t have to see Yifan, be forced to look him in the eye, but Zitao had given him only a moment to regain his bearings after the jump before all but pushing him out of the room. At least the rest of the crew would be present. It’s not like this was the time to talk about it anyways.

The crew was already assembled in the mess when Jongdae arrived. Yifan glanced at him as he sat at the table next to Yixing. He looked like he wanted to say something, his brow furrowed as if in pain, but instead he simply nodded at Jongdae. Jongdae was grateful. He didn’t need to hear exactly all of the reasons he was beneath Yifan, and he definitely didn’t need Yifan’s pity about it.

No one likely noticed the weirdness between them. The room was already too tense. Not that Jongdae had anything to compare it to, but it didn’t feel like this was just another mission.

“We don’t know what we’re headed into,” Yifan began, voicing Jongdae’s thoughts aloud. “It’s going to be very dangerous. An unknown number of hostiles and we’re fighting on their turf.”

Jongdae wondered if it were a warning or an out for anyone who’d want to take it. The crew around him didn’t seem to take it as more than a statement of facts. It was their job after all.

“I’m gonna need all hands on deck for this one.” Yifan said it to the group, but was looking right at Jongdae. Yifan wasn’t ordering him to board the ship. He knew Jongdae hadn’t signed up for this. Jongdae knew he could say no and Yifan would leave it at that, even now.

But he was asking for Jongdae’s help. At best, he could put his biotics to good use, but at the very least, he’d be another gun. No matter what else Yifan thought about him, he seemed to think he could help, and Jongdae wasn’t going to wait on the ship to see if they made it out alive. He was in danger no matter what; he might as well go out fighting.

Jongdae nodded slightly, but Yifan definitely saw it. He didn’t smile at him, but there was something triumphant in his eyes. Jongdae wished he knew what it meant.

Yifan tapped a few buttons on his omni-tool and filled the space between himself and the crew with a projection of a ship. “We’ll be boarding here.” He pointed to a spot on the lowest level of the ship before making a motion with his hand to zoom into the projection and show the group the interior of the ship. “The cargo bay. I expect opposition, but if we’re fast and quiet, we should be to take them by surprise. After we board, we’re going to split up.”

Yifan moved the schematic so that it was focused on another smaller room on the same level. “Zitao, you and Jongdae will be in charge of hostage retrieval. I suspect the ambassador will be in the brig, but there’s always the possibility that they’ll be keeping him somewhere else. As soon as you find him, you are to bring him back to our ship and prepare to depart as soon as I give the signal.”

“Understood, Captain,” Zitao said over the intercom.

“Jongdae, you’ll be Zitao’s back up. Use your biotics to keep Zitao and the ambassador shielded, but don’t engage. Let Zitao handle the hostiles.”

Jongdae supposed that was fair. They couldn’t risk him passing out if he overtaxed his biotics.

“The rest of you are on my team. Our job is to be as distracting as possible.”

Luhan grinned. “So I can bring bombs?” He seemed way too excited by the prospect.

“For once, I’m encouraging it,” Yifan said. “We need to draw the ship’s crew away from the ambassador and force them to engage with us so Zitao and Jongdae can get him out. Luhan, if given the chance, I’ll need you to sabotage the engines. I’d like to be able to do enough damage that we won’t have to try to outrun them.”

“Yifan,” Yixing interrupted. “Why are you putting me on the distraction team? Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go after the ambassador, in case he needs medical attention?”

Yifan faltered for a split second, but Jongdae noticed it. He felt nerves claw at the bottom of his belly. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever Yifan said next.

“I need you on my team because I want to try to gain access to their logs. I think whatever they’re up to goes deeper than a kidnapping, and we need to know what that’s going to be.”

“It’s risky as hell,” Minseok pointed out. “We’re already going in blind.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “But you’re not wrong.”

Jongdae thought he was very wrong. What did it matter that these pirates might be up to something? The mission was the ambassador. Looking for more was going to get someone killed. “Are you crazy? Do you people want to die?” He didn’t know why he was so upset. It was their choice to do something this fucking stupid.

“Jongdae,” Yifan started to say, but Luhan beat him to it.

“You worry about your shit, we’ll worry about ours. As if some shitty pirates could kill us anyways.”

Luhan hadn’t meant it to be, but Jongdae felt oddly reassured. They were professionals after all. He also felt pretty stupid for his outburst. “Sorry,” he muttered and looked down at the table. He didn’t want to see the disappointment that was probably on Yifan’s face. What was wrong with him today?

Jongdae forced himself to listen as Yifan continued. “According to the flight plan we decrypted, we’ll reach intercept coordinates in about three hours. Get some rest, if you can. Zitao, let us know when we’re twenty minutes out. We’ll meet in the cargo bay then. Dismissed.”

Jongdae could tell Yifan wanted to talk to him. He could see him looking at him out of the corner of his eye. But Jongdae wasn’t ready. There was too much going on in his head. He just wanted to pretend like it had never happened. He only needed to get through this mission and avoid Yifan until they dumped him on some rundown planet and he never saw them again.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he pushed past Yixing and got on the lift to the bridge level before Yifan could catch him. Yifan didn’t follow.

Zitao only sighed when he saw Jongdae step into the room, and he nodded to his cot in the corner. Jongdae laid down on it and hoped sleep would come.

It didn’t.

Jongdae tossed and turned on the small cot for what must have been the better part of an hour and a half. If he wasn’t obsessing over his conversation with Yifan, he was fixated on the mission, his role in it, how dangerous it would be, if he’d make it out alive. Zitao didn’t seem to notice his restlessness, or if he did, he didn’t remark on it.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gave up on trying to sleep and sat straight up on the cot. He needed to do something productive. He should probably eat something - he hadn't had much at dinner - but his stomach was too queasy. Zitao was too busy with flying to distract him with any more stories. And he doubted anyone else on the ship needed any help from him. So with nothing else to do, he figured he might as well go and put his armor on. At least that way he’d be ready the minute it was time to go.

The armor was significantly easier to put on now that he was doing it for the second time in one day. When he was done, he sat down stiffly on the closed toilet to give himself a moment to think before he had to go out and face the rest of the ship. He wanted to go and wait on the observation deck, but he didn’t want to risk anyone finding him there. He tapped his heavy boot of his armor against the bathroom floor. It felt like his skin was buzzing, like the tight armor was the only thing holding him together.

He ended up poking his head out of the bathroom and, seeing no one, stole across the hallway to the crew quarters. It wasn’t the first place he would have chosen, but he knew he could be alone here. He perched on the very edge of the bottom bunk, hunched over so that his head was out from underneath the metal ceiling, and opened his omni-tool display.

Yifan had forwarded the ship’s schematics to the whole crew, so Jongdae pulled them up and let the projection fill the crew quarters. He was going to use the next hour to learn the pirate’s ship inside and out. Maybe if he could do that, he’d have an edge that could keep him alive, give him an escape route.

A little voice in the back of his mind told him it wouldn’t be enough. That learning a ship wouldn’t stop a bullet. That there was a whole crew of people more qualified on this ship, and if they couldn’t protect themselves, then Jongdae had absolutely no hope. But Jongdae did his best to ignore it. He had to survive. He couldn’t face the alternative.

When the twenty minute warning buzzed on his omni-tool, Jongdae felt only marginally calmer. The ship he had been studying was much larger than Yifan’s, but the layout was straightforward. It was pretty much a straight shot from where they were boarding in the cargo bay to the brig, and unless the cargo bay was full of pirates when they arrived, there weren’t a lot of places enemies could hide on the way to rescue the ambassador. The problem would be if Yifan’s distraction plan didn’t work and the pirates swarmed them on the way out.

Yifan was confident in the plan and he had lots of experience with this kind of thing, right? Jongdae had to hope that would be good enough.

Minseok and Luhan were unpacking and setting up the guns when Jongdae descended the stairs into the cargo bay. Minseok already had an array of weapons strapped to his back as he calibrated the sight on a sniper rifle. Luhan, on the other hand, was loading a single shotgun. Jongdae walked to the workbench and picked up the same pistol he had used earlier. He jammed it into the holster with more force than was probably necessary. The cargo bay was quiet but not in the way Jongdae had expected. While his nerves were frayed, Minseok and Luhan seemed almost serene. He would have never been able to guess that they were about to put their lives on the line. Jongdae wondered if they were really that calm or if they were just better at taking their fear and worries and locking them away. Jongdae had never been good at that. He could get through each moment as it came - he had to - but the next one was always weighing on his mind.

Then again, maybe they just weren’t afraid to die. And that was something Jongdae would never be able to do.

“Hey,” Minseok said gently. Jongdae realized he had been pacing, clicking one of the seals on his helmet open and closed. Minseok didn’t quite smile at him, but his expression was open. Not that it took a genius to see that Jongdae was stressed. His eyes were as sharp as ever, and for some reason, that calmed Jongdae a bit. Minseok was always assessing; he wasn’t foolhardy or cocky. He knew just how dangerous this would be and he wasn’t freaking out like Jongdae was. It made Jongdae feel like he wasn’t alone in his worry, made the fear somewhat less suffocating.

So he tried to sit and breathe as deeply as he could. To ignore the way his skin felt too tight. He could wait just like Luhan and Minseok were waiting. Except he couldn’t. Questions were bubbling up in his throat and he felt that need to double-triple-check everything. There was so much that could go wrong.

“I mean, how are we gonna sneak up on them in a ship like this anyways?” he asked as though Luhan and Minseok were already part of the conversation he was having in his head.

Luhan huffed and clipped his shotgun into a holster on his lower back. “Most idiots rely on sensors nowadays. Can’t be assed to look out the damn window.”

“And Zitao’s making sure that we’re approaching from below once we’re in visual range to avoid being seen,” Minseok clarified. He had gone back to adjusting the sight on the rifle.

“But they’re gonna know the second we breach, right? Not like we can hide that.” Jongdae didn’t know why he was determined to poke holes in the plan. He guessed that he was just hoping someone else could reassure him when he couldn’t do it himself.

“Sure.” Minseok said, still adjusting. He was purposely not giving Jongdae his full attention, Jongdae realized. Maybe it was some Special Forces tactic to make him calm down, to let him know it wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be. “But we aren’t trying to hide it. We’ve got a brief window, but as long as we’re fast enough and can take out anyone in the cargo bay, we should be able to draw them off in the wrong direction before the rest of them can mobilize.”

It was a solid plan, one that probably had an outside chance of actually working. There was something still bugging Jongdae about it though. Like there was something glaring that no one was thinking of.

Yixing and Yifan seemed to be in deep conversation as they came down into the cargo bay.

“We’ll buy you as much time as we can,” Yifan said. “I…” He fell silent as his eyes landed on Jongdae.

“I’m just saying that if their encryption on the ship is as complicated as that omni-tool, it might take me a minute, even with the key Intelligence sent,” Yixing said as though Yifan hadn’t stopped talking.

“Of course.” Yifan’s attention snapped back to Yixing. “And we’ll reassess if it comes to that.” Yifan once again grabbed the biggest assault rifle and checked its thermal clip before strapping it to his back. This time, he also took a pistol and a shotgun. He looked deadly, the momentary lapse in his imposing posture when he saw Jongdae completely forgotten.

Yixing was showing Luhan and Minseok something in the ship’s schematic, but Jongdae wasn’t paying them any attention. Yifan was looking at him again and Jongdae wanted to sink into the floor. He didn’t look angry or disgusted, mostly he just look confused. Confused and a little hurt, Jongdae noted, even though he didn’t want to. He didn’t know what Yifan would have to be hurt about, but maybe was misinterpreting it. He probably was. He was shit at emotions like this.

He forced himself to stand up as Yifan approached him, refusing to look intimidated, like a frightened child. He held his jaw tense as Yifan stared down at him and made himself look straight into Yifan’s eyes. He wasn’t good for much, but he was good enough for this. Good enough to fight with him, and he wasn’t about to let whatever personal bullshit they had between them convince Yifan otherwise. It was just one mission and then Yifan would be free of him. But something had snapped in Jongdae now that he was faced with Yifan’s searching gaze. Yifan was just going to have to deal with him. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

“Jongdae,” Yifan said. There was so much infused in his name that it almost felt like a tangible presence between them.

“That’s me.” He meant to say it like a challenge - if Yifan wanted to talk, he could damn well talk - but it came out as nothing more than an acknowledgement, soft, and maybe, not that he would ever admit, a little sad.

He was mad and a little hurt and fucking frustrated, because nothing about Yifan made any sense and this wasn’t the time, and maybe there would never be the time, and maybe he didn’t want there to be the time, and maybe he lived to be a cowardly little bitch who couldn’t make up his mind, and - 

“You’ll follow the plan, right?” Yifan asked.

It took Jongdae a moment to process what Yifan had said, but when he did he was furious. Because Yifan had been the one person to trust him, the one person who didn’t treat him like a liability, and now he was doubting him, thinking he was too stupid to do even this right.

“I’m not gonna fuck up your mission, Yifan,” he snapped. He wanted to spit the words into Yifan’s face.

“That’s not-”

“Two minutes to breach,” Zitao said over the intercom.

Yifan lingered for just one moment. He ran a hand over his fringe, then turned and put on his helmet. “Minseok, Luhan, prepare to engage the minute we breach. Yixing, suppressive fire. Jongdae,” he addressed him but didn’t turn, “hang back and wait for Zitao. Don’t fight unless you absolutely have to.”

Jongdae didn’t bother to argue. What would be the point?

Luhan was at the door, twirling his shotgun. His sharp smile was eager and more than a bit deranged. Minseok held his sniper rifle in steady hands.

Jongdae put his helmet on and tried to ignore how his hands shook as he fastened it.

“Breach in three…”

Yifan pulled the safety on his rifle.

“Two..”

Jongdae pulled the pistol from his hip and pointed it at the door.

“One..”

Yifan looked back at Jongdae.

The whole ship heaved. And then Luhan was kicking open the door. 

An alarm was blaring so loudly on the pirate’s ship that Jongdae almost didn’t hear the guns go off. He threw up a barrier just in time to stop the bullets that were whizzing down the corridor between the two ships. Even though Yifan’s team’s armor had kinetic barriers, they could only withstand so much, and Jongdae didn’t know how long they would need them to hold up.

The pirates had a great defensive position: the corridor was acting as a bottleneck, and they’d had the forewarning to be able to use their cargo as makeshift bulwarks, effectively dividing the room in two. Even if they couldn’t gun down Yifan and his team, all they had to do was hold out until the rest of the ship mobilized and overwhelmed them.

Under any other circumstances, the pirates could have dispatched them with ease, but they weren’t prepared for Jongdae’s biotics, and they definitely weren’t prepared for Luhan to completely disregard any form of cover and start firing wildly at the crates the pirates were hiding behind.

If he hadn’t thought Luhan was totally nuts before, this would have done the trick. Luhan only had a few rounds before he’d need to replace his thermal clip and both he and the pirates knew it. As soon as Luhan stopped firing and Jongdae heard the sound of an empty clip hitting the floor, a pirate shot out from behind one of the crates and took aim. Jongdae threw a barrier around Luhan and braced himself to hold it through the onslaught.

Minseok shot the pirate in the head before he could even fire. The pirates had been so focused on Luhan’s obvious threat that they hadn’t noticed Minseok drop behind cover and set up his sniper rifle. It was a ballsy plan; Minseok’s aim and timing would have to be perfect to pull it off before Luhan’s shields went down. Jongdae was willing to bet it was a move they’d used more than once in the past.

But there were still two more pirates, and they wouldn’t be falling for that again.

It had all happened so fast that Jongdae hadn’t even realized he was still standing in the very exposed corridor. There was a ground vehicle parked on his right, and he ducked low and ran to crouch behind one of its wheels. He was breathing hard and he had all but forgotten the gun in his hands. Across the cargo bay, Minseok had swapped to an assault rifle, spraying heavy bursts of bullets that clanged against the metal of the crates. Luhan was firing again, and even Yixing was popping out of cover to fire a few shots in the pirates’ direction. 

The pirates were effectively pinned down, but that didn’t do Yifan’s team any good. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yifan moving around the right side of the room, keeping to cover, attempting to flank the pirates. He’d have to be careful; their barrier ran almost the whole length of the cargo bay, and he wouldn’t have cover on the other side of it.

“Too long,” Minseok said over the main comm channel as he reloaded. It was true, they were probably running out of time, and Yifan’s approach was too slow if they were hoping to keep their head start.

Jongdae could see Yifan nod, pressed against the side wall. “Jongdae,” Yifan said, no note of hesitation in his voice, “Luhan. Barrier on three.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Luhan said before Jongdae could acknowledge Yifan’s order.

Yifan held up his hand and ticked his fingers down one by one.

Luhan barely waited for the blue glow to solidify around him before he jumped up and over the crates separating the room. Jongdae could feel the thud of the bullets bouncing off the barrier and concentrated on holding it in place. One of the pirates tried to make a break for the hallway that led to the brig, but Yifan shot him in the back before he could even make it twenty feet. Luhan hadn’t shot the other pirate yet. Instead, he seemed to be taking great pleasure in slowly backing him into the corner between the crates and the wall, gun pointed at his face.

“Luhan, time,” Minseok reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Luhan shot the pirate at point blank range. He didn’t even flinch as the blood splashed on his armor. Jongdae dropped the barrier and leaned back against the tire. He thought he might be sick.

The whole thing had taken maybe three minutes. Jongdae hoped that it had been fast enough.

“My team, we need to move now,” Yifan said, already heading for the ladder to the upper level. “Jongdae, stay down and wait for Zitao.” He was gone without so much as a backward glance.

Jongdae turned to face the corridor. He could feel his breathing start to speed up and he forced himself to think of anything else besides the carnage Yifan’s team had left behind and the very real danger he had now found himself in. He was surprised that Yifan had asked him to help in the fight when he had been so adamant about him staying out of it, but then again, his biotics were what they brought him for. And he had helped: it was only because of him that they were able to clear the room as fast as they did. Maybe that was enough for Yifan to trust him again.

Jongdae didn’t have to wait more than a minute or two for Zitao to join him. He was carrying a staff like he’d used in the training room, but this one had glowing orange omni-blades at either end. It looked deadly, but Jongdae didn’t know how useful it would be against guns.

Zitao looked over to what was left of the pirate in the corner. “Luhan had fun,” he noted dispassionately.

Jongdae nodded, not sure how else to reply. It was hard to imagine someone so calm in the face of all that blood, but supposed Zitao must get used to seeing some shit in their line of work.

Zitao tilted his head and surveyed Jongdae. He must have seen how tense he was, how his fingers were turning white where they gripped the gun.

“I’m fine,” Jongdae said. He wouldn’t fuck it up.

Zitao didn’t respond, but he reached out a hand and helped Jongdae to his feet. “Let’s give Yifan another minute to get their attention. Then we’ll head for the brig.”

Jongdae hoped they’d find the ambassador there. It was a big ship to search, and their current plan relied on Zitao and Jongdae going undetected.

An explosion shook the ship. Jongdae grabbed onto the tire to steady himself. That must have been Luhan blowing the engines. It seemed like the other team was on schedule. Jongdae wished they could figure out how to shut off the alarm. Between that and the explosion, his ears were ringing. At least the private, proximity-based comm channel made it so he could hear Zitao when he spoke.

“Let’s get going then.”

Jongdae let Zitao take the lead as they walked through the cargo bay and into the hallway on the right. There were a few rooms they would have to pass to make it to the brig, and Jongdae could only hope they would be empty. The hallway felt too open. There was nowhere to hide if they ran into any pirates.

Zitao pressed his back to the wall as they approached the first room and Jongdae quickly did the same. Zitao peered inside, briefly ducking his head around the corner.

“Clear,” he told Jongdae.

The next two rooms were empty as well, and Jongdae could almost feel himself relax. He was about to turn the corner for the brig when Zitao shot an arm out and pulled him back against the wall. He didn’t say anything but he held up two fingers.

Two pirates. They must have stayed behind to guard the ambassador. Jongdae and Zitao would not only have to take them out, but they’d have to do it before they could radio the other pirates and tell them the team’s real objective. They had the corner for cover, but Zitao didn’t even seem to have a gun on him, so he would need to be in melee range. Jongdae couldn’t kill both of them by himself. He could shield Zitao, give him time to cross the distance, but would he make it before they could call for backup? They’d have to risk it. He didn’t see any other option.

He was about to try to communicate this to Zitao as quietly as possible, but Zitao held out a hand, telling him to wait. He pulled up the display for his omni-tool and tapped a button. Then he smiled at Jongdae and disappeared.

Jongdae didn’t hear Zitao move through the hallway, but he heard a groan and a horrible gurgling noise a moment later. He poked his head around the corner to see Zitao pull his bladed staff from the chest of one of the pirates. Without missing a beat, he used his staff to slam into the back of the other pirate’s knees - like he had done to Jongdae in the training room - before flipping it in his hands and slitting the man’s throat.

“Tactical cloak,” Zitao said by way of explanation as Jongdae gaped at him. “It’s useful.”

That was an understatement.

He followed Zitao down the hallway, stepping over the bodies. When they reached the door to the brig, Zitao once again pulled up his omni-tool. He opened a program and then held his hand up to the computerized lock on the front of the door. It took about thirty seconds before Zitao’s hack did its job and the lock clicked. Zitao pushed the door open. 

There was a turian curled up on a dirty cot who could only be the ambassador. Zitao rushed to his side and scanned his omni-tool over his body. Jongdae held his breath.

“He’s alive,” Zitao sounded relieved. His voice showing emotion for the first time since he joined Jongdae on the ship. “I don’t relish having to do this, but we need to get him moving.” It seemed like he was saying it to himself as much as he was to Jongdae.

He pressed something on his omni-tool and then held it against the ambassador. A second later, it emitted a pulse of electricity. The ambassador woke with a rattling gasp. Zitao had gotten lucky, Jongdae thought, he was pretty sure that shit could kill someone.

The ambassador scrambled back on the cot. “I already told you everything,” he wheezed. “Please.” His face was covered in dried blue blood and one of his mandibles looked broken. The fingers on his right hand were bent at odd angles. The interrogation obviously hadn’t been gentle.

Zitao hastened to remove his helmet, probably to show him that was turian, unlike his human captors. Jongdae thought it was best if he kept his on.

“Ambassador Parvitus, I’m with Turian Special Forces. My name is Zitao Huang. Jongdae and I are here to get you home.” Zitao held his hands out in placation, staff discarded on the floor.

Parvitus looked between the two of them cautiously, clearly distrustful, but he seemed to know that even if they were lying, he didn’t have the means to fight them.

“Can you walk?” Zitao asked, standing and holding out his hands to help Parvitus to his feet. Parvitus got up from the cot with a pained moan, clearly favoring his right leg. He limped slightly toward the door, but stumbled. Zitao quickly reached out to stabilize him. He walked Parvitus to the wall so that he could lean against it while he retrieved his staff.

“Jongdae, I’m going to need you to take point. He’s not going to be able to walk on his own,” Zitao said, slipping an arm around Parvitus, and slinging Parvitus’s arm over his shoulder.

“Wait,” Parvitus gasped out, “you have to-”

“It’s okay, Ambassador,” Zitao tried to soothe him. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.”

“No.” Parvitus coughed, leaning heavily against Zitao. “You don’t understand. There’s a missile. The pirates-” He broke off in another fit of coughing. “One of the projects I’m working on. A joint defense program. The pirates, the knew somehow, wanted the codes. They tortured me. I tried not to, but I told them. They’re going to target a human colony. You have to stop it.”

Jongdae didn’t know why a human pirate crew would want to launch a missile at a human colony but figured that was a question for someone smarter at some other time.

Zitao’s face was grave. Jongdae didn’t even know he could look concerned. “Yifan, come in Yifan,” he said as he swapped to the main comm channel, voice low.

The channel opened and all Jongdae could hear for a moment was the sound of gunfire. “Go for Yifan.”

“Yifan, we’ve got the ambassador, but there’s a problem. The pirates have missile launch codes.”

“We know,” Yifan said. “Yixing’s working on stopping the launch sequence, but it is going to take him some time. Plan stays the same.”

“Understood. Zitao out.” Zitao closed the channel.

Yifan expected them to take Parvitus back to the ship as if nothing had changed. Jongdae hoped Yixing worked fast.

The hallways were slow going as Zitao was all but carrying Parvitus. Jongdae led the way, gun raised the whole time, but luckily, Yifan’s distraction had worked, and the path stayed clear.

They were easing Parvitus over the crates in the cargo bay when the main comm channel crackled to life again. Had Yixing stopped the launch already?

But instead of Yifan, it was Minseok who spoke. “Pinned down on the bridge. Yifan’s been hit. Still need more time. Yifan says to execute the jump.”

Jongdae froze, Parvitus completely forgotten. Yifan’s been hit. Yifan was shot and was bleeding out somewhere on this ship and he was fucking telling them to go? To leave him behind? To just finish the mission like that didn’t mean leaving them all to die?

He felt weightless, like his stomach had detached from his body. Yifan was going to die. Yifan was going to die and there would be no more tea. No more sparring, no hand on his shoulder, no one saying his name in just that right way, no one to look at him like he meant something. Just a galaxy with no Yifan.

Well, fuck that.

“I’m going back,” he said. 

“Jongdae, Yifan said…” Zitao tried to protest, but Jongdae didn’t care. There wasn’t a single thing in the whole damn universe that could change his mind. 

“Yeah, well, I’m shit at following orders.”

Zitao looked at him for a minute before nodding. “I’ll give you all the time I can.” Despite his words, it felt like a goodbye.

Jongdae jumped back over the crates and spared one more glance back at Zitao and Parvitus before heading to the ladder to the bridge level.

It occurred to him them that there was a good chance he was going to die. If Yifan and his team couldn’t get themselves out with all their training and skills, what hope did Jongdae have? He should be scared shitless, and he was. The alarm was blaring and his head ached. He could barely think for how terrified he was. But he wouldn’t turn back. If there was even a chance he could help Yifan, he had to take it. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t. Maybe he’d die. Yifan was worth it.

He needed to get to the bridge, but if the team was pinned down there, he couldn’t go there directly. He had to think. Think. Based on the ship’s schematics, there was only one traditional entrance to the bridge, and it would almost definitely be filled with pirates. But maybe there was another way. If he could get to the engine room, he might be able to fit in the ventilation shaft that ran the length of the ship, and he could crawl to its exit on the bridge. The schematics hadn’t shown it being very big, but Jongdae knew he was smaller than most and he wasn’t wearing bulky armor like the pirates were. There was a chance he could fit and that no one else would be able to follow him. He just needed to get to the engine room.

He took a right at the landing at the top of the ladder. He wanted to run straight to the engine room but it wasn’t a good idea to be that reckless. Just because the pirates were distracted by Yifan’s team didn’t mean that there weren’t any others investigating the rest of the ship. The may have already realized that it was all a ruse meant to pull them away from the ambassador.

Jongdae pressed himself against the wall like he had done with Zitao, even if he thought it was kind of stupid. There wasn’t anywhere for him to hide in the long corridor; this one didn’t have any rooms he could duck into if someone was coming. Every instinct in his body was telling him to move faster, that Yifan was running out of time, but he made himself stay calm and go steadily. It wasn’t going to help Yifan any if he got himself killed because someone heard him running.

The engine room was at the end of the hall, and Jongdae felt relieved as he reached the entrance. He was just about to open the door when he heard a voice from inside.

“They fucked it good,” a pirate was shouting, probably to be heard over the alarm. That meant that there was more than one pirate in there. Shit.

Jongdae pushed back even further into the wall. He wished he could take a look inside to see how many pirates he was dealing with, but there was no way to do so without potentially letting them know he was there. The engine room was his only option if he wanted to be able to reach the bridge. He was going to have to face these pirates and he needed a plan fast.

He moved closer to the door, hoping to hear someone speak again. Maybe it might give him an indication of how many pirates there were or what they were planning to do. But he couldn’t hear anything. He could push the door open and try to take them by surprise. He could hold a barrier for a few rounds at least, but he wasn’t convinced he could kill more than one before it gave out. Or before one of them realized they could rush him. He definitely wouldn’t be able to hold off both kinds of attacks.

The engine room door rattled and Jongdae jumped back against the wall. He was so fucked. He was out of time. The pirates were going to be coming out of the room and there was nowhere for him to hide. He really wished he had Zitao’s tactical cloak.

If he stayed where he was, the door would block him from view when it opened and he’d have maybe five seconds. Five seconds or die. His biotics flared.

A single pirate walked out of the engine room and let the door slam behind him. Jongdae grit his teeth and pulled hard just as the pirate turned to see him, started to reach for his gun. The pirate froze perfectly in place, caught in Jongdae’s stasis field. A sharp pain stabbed behind Jongdae’s right eye, but he held the stasis in place.

He knew what he had to do. He had bought himself a few more seconds, but he had no way of knowing if another pirate would be coming out of the door at any moment.

He raised his gun and pointed it at the pirate’s head. Once he pulled the trigger, the other pirate or pirates would know something was wrong. He wouldn’t have time. He’d have to fight them.

He couldn’t miss. He barely noticed that his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

He dropped the stasis and pulled the trigger. The pirate’s body hit the floor. Jongdae’s visor was splattered with blood.

The door burst open, almost hitting Jongdae, who jumped back and pulled a barrier up. There was only one other pirate. Maybe Jongdae had a chance.

The pirate was firing an assault rifle at him and, though Jongdae pushed his barrier back hard against the bullets, he was losing ground, stumbling back down the hallway. It was taking all of his concentration to hold the barrier up. He had no time to raise his gun, much less aim a shot.

A bullet slipped through his barrier, narrowly missing his left arm. He couldn’t do this for much longer. His blood felt like it was blazing through his veins and each bullet that thudded against his barrier made it burn even hotter. Fuck if he was getting shot by some shitty pirates. He wouldn’t fuck it up. He wouldn’t.

He let his barrier drop, his hands glowing so brightly blue that it was almost blinding him. He reached out with his biotics and wrenched the rifle from the pirate’s hands, throwing it noisily against the wall. The pirate took a step back, but it wouldn’t do him any good. Jongdae could feel the power build, so fast that it was overwhelming, and before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed the pirate biotically and threw him up into the ceiling. The pirate was screaming, but Jongdae could barely hear it. All he could think was that Yifan wouldn’t die. That he would make it. He slammed the pirate down on the floor and aimed his gun at him as he let go. The pirate didn’t move. Jongdae didn’t know if he was dead or just unconscious but he didn’t bother to check. He had to get to the engine room, had to get to the vents.

It was only when the door shut behind him that it hit him. He had just killed someone. Maybe even two people. Even if they had been trying to kill him, still…

His gun fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. He bent to pick it up, but over balanced and landed on his ass. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He’d just killed someone and felt nothing but exhaustion. 

He couldn’t stop now, couldn’t dwell on it when Yifan still needed him. He grabbed the gun and took a fortifying breath before standing. The vents were against the back wall covered by a grate. He didn’t have time to look for a tool to remove it, so he pulled it loose with his biotics. It was going to be a tight fit and the ventilation shaft was pitch black, but he could make it. He had to.

He wasn’t going to be able to fit with his helmet still on, so he quickly took it off and left it on the floor before climbing into the vents. He crawled on his stomach as fast as he could manage. His whole body hurt but he refused to stop and rest. He’d already wasted enough time.

He didn’t know how long it took him to crawl the entire distance, but he was starting to see trickles of light coming in through the grate at the far end, so he must be close. He expected to hear gunfire, but he didn’t hear anything besides the now slight muffled alarm. Shit. Maybe that meant he was too late. He pushed himself to crawl even faster.

When he reached the end of the vent, he didn’t hesitate to shove the grate out with his biotics. Maybe he should have taken a minute to see if it was Yifan’s team or pirates on the other side, especially since he barely had time to put up a barrier as a bullet flew towards his head.

“Shit!” he cried out in surprise. It wasn’t like he could back up in the vents. He was trapped. He expected another bullet, but it didn’t come. 

“Jongdae?” Minseok called out.

Jongdae had never been more relieved to hear someone’s voice. If Minseok was still alive, that meant Yifan might be as well. “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t shoot.”

Now that he wasn’t in any danger of being shot, he looked out onto the bridge. Minseok was hurrying over to help him out of the vent. He took Minseok’s offered hands and allowed him to support most of his body weight as he pulled his legs out of the vent and got his feet back under him.

“Jongdae, what are you-”

“Yifan. Is he…” Jongdae didn’t want to have to finish the question. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“He’s alive,” Minseok said, and Jongdae felt like he could collapse right there on the floor. But he needed to get to Yifan, needed to see for himself. He looked behind Minseok to see Yifan slumped against the main console. He wasn’t moving. But Minseok had said -

Jongdae sprinted the short distance to Yifan and dropped to his knees beside him. This close, he could see that Yifan was breathing shallowly. His arm was slung across his body, pressing against a wound in his stomach. There was a small pool of blood underneath him. But he was still breathing.

Jongdae leaned against the console, still looking at Yifan, still watching him breathe. He was so tired. 

“We patched him up with medi-gel, stopped the bleeding,” Minseok was saying, “but we need to get him somewhere we can operate. There could be internal bleeding, and-”

Yifan stirred, clutching a bit tighter at his side, his eyes blinking open slowly. When his gaze landed on Jongdae, his eyes widened in alarm and he stiffened, trying to sit up straighter.

“No,” he slurred, “No, Jongdae. You’re not supposed to be here. Supposed to be on the ship. Where it’s safe.” He looked afraid.

Jongdae looked away and shrugged. He couldn’t stand seeing Yifan like that. “Yeah, well, someone went and got their dumb ass shot, so…”

Yifan let out a small chuckle, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Minseok knelt down and lifted Yifan’s hand, checking that the medi-gel patch still held.

Jongdae looked around the bridge. It was much larger than the bridge on Yifan’s ship. Yixing was sitting in a chair at the main console, poring over lines of code. He must have still been working on stopping the launch. He was completely focused, like he hadn’t even noticed Jongdae come out of the vents. There were a few smaller standalone consoles littered throughout the room, and Luhan was using one for cover, gun trained on the closed door.

That explained the lack of gunfire.

“Yixing was able to seal off the bridge,” Minseok said, “but it’s only a matter of time until they override the hack, or just break the thing down. We’re running out of thermal clips. We won’t be able to hold them off for long once they get in.” He looked pointedly at the vent. “If you head back now, you can still make it before Zitao leaves.”

There was no way in hell Jongdae was leaving them to the pirates. Minseok seemed to realize it, even if he hoped that Jongdae would take his advice.

There had to be some other way out of this. Going through the main door obviously wasn’t an option. Only he and Minseok would be able to fit through the vents, but even if they were bigger, they wouldn’t have been able to drag Yifan through anyways. There was no way to get to an escape pod. There was nothing but space all around them.

Jongdae scrambled to his feel and leaned over the main console, pressing his hand against the window. It was heavily reinforced, but it was still glass, right?

It was absolutely insane to even be considering this, but insanity was all they had left. The other option was waiting around to die.

“Luhan, is there any way you can rig something up that could blow the window out?” Jongdae asked.

Luhan looked at him like he was crazy and then looked over at Minseok, waiting for his reaction before he answered. Minseok must have sent him some signal because he glanced around the room and said, “I’ve got four grenades left, and there’s enough tech in here I could make some kind of detonator. Won’t be pretty though. Besides the whole blowing a fucking window into space, the force I’d need, the blast would hit the whole room. Kill us before space could.”

But Luhan could do it. “I’ve got an idea,” Jongdae said to Minseok, “but you’re not going to like it.” He hoped Minseok would be willing to listen.

“Luhan, get to work on the explosive,” Minseok said without hesitation. “What do you need me to do?” he asked Jongdae.

Minseok was trusting his plan without even hearing it. Jongdae faltered for a moment. He was expecting it to have taken a lot more convincing.

“You wanna do a spacewalk,” Minseok said simply. “Have Zitao bring the ship around and jump from here to there.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae agreed. When Minseok said it aloud, it sounded even crazier than it did in his head.

“It’s not the worst plan,” Minseok mused. “It’s got some problems though. Yifan’s suit is torn and you don’t have a helmet, for a couple.”

And this was the part Jongdae had been most nervous about. “I’m gonna shield us. Get us through the explosion and then keep it up around Yifan and me while we make the jump.” It was a fucking tall order. An explosion was different from some bullets, and shielding all five of them, if he could do it, would take everything out of him. Even just shielding Yifan and himself for the jump might be too much after that. How was he going to get Minseok to believe in him when he barely believed in himself?

“And you can do that?” Minseok asked carefully. He was assessing Jongdae for any signs of doubt. 

“I have to.” He looked down at Yifan. Would Yifan have let him go through with this? Would he trust him?

“You’re right. I don’t like it. But it’s what we’ve got,” Minseok said after a tense minute.

Minseok relayed the plan to Zitao over the comm channel and Jongdae leaned back against the console. His arm was pressed up against Yifan’s side. Yifan was warm and solid. Jongdae wanted to drop his head down on his shoulder and rest. Luhan had taken the front panel off one of the freestanding consoles and was haphazardly pulling wires and parts out.

A part of him couldn’t believe Minseok had agreed to his plan so readily, but he didn’t have the energy to question it. Maybe the really had been out of ideas. He wished Yifan were still conscious. Yifan would know if it were the right thing to do.

There was a whirring noise outside the door, followed by the grind of metal on metal. The door shook ominously. The pirates had figured out another way to get in.

“Yixing, how much longer?” Minseok asked, his eyes fixed on the door.

“Two minutes,” Yixing said.

“Luhan?”

Luhan didn’t reply right away. He was bent over his device, attaching wires seemingly at random.

Minseok let him work for the moment. He turned to Jongdae. “We need to move Yifan away from the blast point.”

Jongdae nodded and wrapped an arm around Yifan’s waist. Even with Minseok, they couldn’t lift him; he was too much dead weight. Ultimately, they dragged him as carefully as they could toward the door, placing him against the console Luhan had opened up.

Jongdae looked out the window and was relieved to see Yifan’s ship taking up most of the view. Zitao was in position. This was really happening. There were getting off this ship, or would die trying.

“Luhan!” Minseok shouted. Jongdae chanced a glance at the door and saw that the pirates had cut through one of the hinges and were starting to work on the second.

“I’m done! I’m done!” Luhan was running the device over to where Yixing was sitting, all but dumping it on the main console.

“I still need more time,” Yixing warned. He sounded a lot calmer than he looked, his whole body tensed on the edge of the chair.

The pirates were halfway through the second hinge.

Minseok had his rifle unfurled, aimed at the door. “If they get through, I’ll buy us time. Stick to the plan. Get Yifan and Yixing out.”

Jongdae noted that he’d purposefully left Luhan out of that order. He looked between the two of them. Luhan already had his shotgun out. Minseok wouldn’t be alone.

“I will,” Jongdae promised. He would get Yifan to safety. He wouldn’t fail him.

The door’s final hinge was almost fully cut through when Yixing spun the chair and dove toward them. “Go!” he yelled.

Luhan didn’t hesitate. As soon as Jongdae saw him press the detonator, he threw up a barrier around the five of them and pushed back against the explosion.

The whole thing was happening so fast it was all Jongdae could do to keep control. The explosion rocked the ship and he stumbled, the barrier flickering slightly. The blast hit the barrier, the shockwave tearing through him, and he fought to keep standing. He needed to grab Yifan, make sure he was close enough that he could shield both of them as they made the jump. His legs were shaking and he collapsed almost on top of Yifan as the window blew and they were hurtled out into space.

He pulled the barrier tight and fastened his arms around Yifan even tighter. He saw the rest of the team around him, but his focus was on holding the barrier as they floated toward the opening on the side of the ship. The distance seemed interminable. Every part of Jongdae ached. Pain flared behind his eyes and his vision started to go blurry. It felt like an invisible pressure was pushing down on his chest, threatening to suffocate him. He knew he was on the very edge of blacking out, but if he did that, Yifan would die.

Jongdae pushed at the barrier ever harder. They were almost there. Just a few more seconds. He was dimly aware that there was blood dripping down into his mouth. He lost sight of the ship. He couldn’t see anything anymore. Every moment was agony. He may have been screaming but he didn’t know.

Yifan. It was all he could think about. He was getting Yifan out. He wouldn’t fuck it up.

He collided with something hard and metal. There were voices and hands trying to reach him, but he wouldn’t let the barrier drop. Someone was saying his name. Minseok. He sounded like he was underwater. Another metallic sound. He was so cold.

“Jongdae, you’re safe. He’s safe.”

Safe. He’d done it.

He let go.


	7. Chapter 6

Everything hurt. His head was pounding and his limbs were too heavy to move. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was darkness.

He heard the sounds of someone moving around a room. He was in a bed now, probably in the med bay. He shouldn’t have been surprised to be waking up there, but he was kind of surprised to be waking up at all. There was an IV in his arm, but he found that it didn’t bother him. He was still so tired. He realized he could rest more if he wanted.

It came back to him in a rush, and his stomach lurched with the force of it. The pirates, the explosion, the spacewalk, Yifan. Yifan. He had to find Yifan. 

He tried to sit up but his body refused to cooperate. If he could just roll a little, he could get his legs over the edge of the bed, and-

“Jongdae,” he heard Yixing’s voice say with alarm. “Jongdae, you need to calm down.”

“Yifan,” Jongdae rasped. His throat burned too much to say more.

“Yifan’s fine. We got the bullet out, and he’s fine.” Yixing was pressing down gently on Jongdae’s shoulder, forcing him to lay back in the bed. “You need to rest. You’re in no condition to be getting up.”

Yifan was okay, and it was so dark, and was very tired. Maybe Yixing had a point. He closed his eyes again.

His headache had lessened when he woke up a second time, but it was still bad enough that his stomach roiled when he tried to move. He still couldn’t see. He was terribly thirsty, but he couldn’t see to get himself out of bed much less to get himself water.

His face was itching, and when he touched it, he realized it was covered in bandages. He felt around his head for the end of the cloth and started to unwrap them.

“Let me help you,” Yixing said. Light was filtering through the bandages, and he could see Yixing’s outline as he crossed the room. “I didn’t realize you were awake again. I wanted to make sure it was dark when you woke up. For your headache. I’m sorry if it scared you.” He removed the last of the bandages from Jongdae’s eyes. The lights in the med bay were as dim as Yixing could make them, but Jongdae’s eyes still hurt.

“Water?” he asked.

“Of course. Let me-” Yixing grabbed a cup off of the desk and filled it at the sink. He lifted it to Jongdae’s mouth and Jongdae drank in small sips, fearing that drinking too much at once would make him throw up. 

When he had drained the cup, Yixing put it down and scanned over his head with his omni-tool. “You’re speaking and you can understand me. That’s good. How’s your vision?”

“Hurts, but I can see, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’ll need to give you a full neurological exam later, but is seems that you might get through this without any deficits. You’re remarkably lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“You had a subarachnoid hemorrhage. You were bleeding in your brain,” Yixing explained. “It was a very near thing, but I was able to repair the damage.”

Jongdae was less shocked than he thought he would be, hearing that he nearly died. For a moment, when he had just woken up, he thought he had. In fact, he realized, a part of him assumed that he wasn’t coming back from that spacewalk, even before he’d taken it. He knew it would be too much for him, but he had only thought of getting Yifan to safety. He hadn’t been thinking about himself.

“You must have had an aneurysm so small even my omni-tool couldn’t pick it up. I should have done more thorough scans.” Jongdae was trying to listen to Yixing, but his mind was drifting again. “The irony is, you’ll probably be even stronger now. Biotically, I mean. Not that I suggest pulling a stunt like that ever again.”

Jongdae wasn’t about to rule it out because he knew he’d do it all again if it meant that he’d save Yifan, aneurysm or no.

There was a knock at the door before it slid open, and there was Yifan. He was slightly hunched and he was in his loose-fitting sparring clothes rather than his armor. Jongdae could see the edge of a bandage poking out from under the black shirt. He limped a bit as he entered the room, but he was there, and walking, and alive. Jongdae felt his breath catch in his throat.

Yixing looked between them. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He headed out into the mess.

Jongdae didn’t know how he expected Yifan to be looking at him, but barely restrained fury wasn’t it.

“You want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?” Yifan growled. Even wounded, he was formidable, looming over Jongdae’s bed. “Of all the reckless bullshit - and that Minseok allowed it! - did you even think at all? You could have died, Jongdae!”

Jongdae looked down at the blanket in his lap. “Kind of figured I would, yeah,” he mumbled. When Yifan didn’t say anything else, he kept going, the words creeping out of him without him meaning to say them. “It’s just...you, the team, you’re the first people to, you know, give a shit about me, well, pretty much ever. And, well, there are worse ways to go out.” It was the truth, so why hide it?

Yifan visibly deflated. He pulled Yixing’s desk chair over and sat heavily in it. His eyes were closed and he was silent for a long while. Jongdae fidgeted with the blanket, stealing glances at him.

“You can’t-” Yifan sucked in a deep breath. “Jongdae.” He suddenly took Jongdae’s hand in his enormous one and looked at him with wild eyes. “You can’t ever do anything like that again. You have to promise me, Jongdae. You have to-” His voice was choked with emotion. He dropped his head down so that it laid gently on Jongdae’s arm. His breath was warm against Jongdae’s skin.

“Yifan.”

“I don’t know what I’d do, Jongdae.” Yifan said it so quietly that Jongdae barely heard it. He felt his heart clench.

Jongdae couldn’t promise Yifan, but he could hold his hand a little tighter.

He didn’t know how long they sat like that, but it wasn’t nearly long enough before he felt the exhaustion creep up on him again. “I’m falling asleep,” he murmured, not quite sure that he hadn’t already.

He didn’t ask Yifan to stay. He knew he didn’t have to.

Minseok was sitting in the chair next to him when he woke again. Luhan was sitting on top of a pile of papers on Yixing’s desk.

“Where’s Yifan?” Jongdae slurred.

Minseok chuckled and lifted a glass of water to Jongdae’s mouth and let him take a few sips before answering. “I forced him to go to bed. He’d been here for hours, and he’s too old to sleep in a rolling chair. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jongdae smiled at the idea of Yifan refusing to leave, trying to curl his massive body up in the tiny chair. But Yifan resting in his actual bed was good. He needed it.

“He hasn’t slept much since the mission ended, but he somehow found the time to ream me out for - what was it? - ‘listening to reckless bullshit from a teenager’.”

Jongdae winced.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t mean it. Besides, it was one hell of a ride if nothing else. I might even be inclined to do it again.” Minseok smirked at him, like they were sharing a private joke. 

Jongdae was once again impressed with Minseok’s forthrightness. He had no problem admitting that Jongdae had been right when a day ago he barely trusted him. It didn’t mean he would always agree with him, but he was always willing to listen. It was a special kind of grace, maybe.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Luhan said from his perch, inspecting his talons. “You’re pretty fun to have around. Totally fucking crazy, though. Plus, Minseok said I wasn’t allowed to laugh at Yifan’s freakout if you’d actually kicked it.”

“Yifan’s freakout?” Jongdae asked. Had they heard him yelling at him?

“Oh, yeah. When Yifan woke up and heard you were pretty much fucked, he totally lost it. Started screaming your name, crying. It was fucking hilarious.”

Minseok pointedly cleared his throat.

“What? It was. I mean, he was on a shit ton of meds and Jongdae didn’t really die or whatever. Anyways.” Luhan hopped off the desk, knocking all of the papers on the floor. “I have weapons to calibrate.” He paused and looked Jongdae over one more time and stood by the door. “You know, I hope he keeps you.”

Jongdae didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed. Not when he had been secretly hoping the same thing for a while now.

“Please ignore Luhan,” Minseok said after he’d left.

“Already do.”

Minseok laughed, his eyes crinkling up. It made him look practically childlike. But when he stopped, his eyes were as sharp as ever. “You did good, kid. You know that, right?”

Jongdae shrugged. He just did what he had to.

Minseok patted him on the shoulder and stood up to leave. “Why don’t you get some more rest?”

The next few days were a bit of a blur. He thought he had dreamed Zitao visiting him, standing by his bedside and tucking something heavy and solid into his open palm. But it was still there when he came to again. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that it was a carved wooden talisman with the same phoenix symbol he’d seen on the disc on Zitao’s altar. The Lord of Fire. Zitao hadn’t left a note, but Jongdae could guess what it meant. Forged in fire.

Ambassador Parvitus stopped by once Jongdae could stay up for more than twenty minutes at a time. His face was still bruised and he was using a crutch, but he looked much healthier. He profusely thanked Jongdae for his role in his rescue and told Jongdae that he’d spoken to the Hierarchy and the Alliance and they’d decided to shelf the missile project. His kidnapping showed that it was far too easy for it to fall into the wrong hands.

As for the pirates, they didn’t learn too much more. The pirates managed to fix their ship and get away before turian reinforcements could show up. They could have been terrorists or they could have simply been opportunistic. Their aims, how they learned about the ambassador and the missile, it all remained a mystery.

Jongdae was practically climbing the walls by the time Yixing decided it was time to discharge him with strict instructions to avoid strenuous activities and absolutely no biotics. Jongdae didn’t see that being a problem, he just wanted to look at something that wasn’t the four walls of the med bay.

He wasn’t surprised at all to find himself gravitate toward the observation deck almost as soon as he was released. He noticed that his blanket and pillow were still on the couch, so he sat down, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and looked out at the stars.

He doubted he’d ever look at them the same way after his spacewalk, but they still comforted him. Maybe it was because he’d faced them and survived. Maybe it was because he’d found their promise of possibilities in himself.

He sat for a while before the door opened. Yifan and two cups of tea. Jongdae smiled and turned, draping his arms over the back of the sofa.

“Are you stalking me or do you just show up with tea, hoping I’ll be here?”

Yifan had the grace to look sheepish as he shrugged. “Zitao’s not the only one who uses the cameras.”

“Stalker, then.” Jongdae accepted his cup and turned back around on the couch. Yifan sat next to him, much closer than he ever had before. Their thighs were fully pressed together. Jongdae steeled himself and then leaned against Yifan’s side. Yifan let out a low, pleased rumble.

“There’s a place for you here,” Yifan said finally, placing his empty cup down on the side table, “if you want it.”

Jongdae went still. Yifan wasn’t looking at him, but the atmosphere was as intense as if he had been staring straight into Jongdae’s eyes. “With the team… or with you?”

“Both,” Yifan said softly. He didn’t make him wait even one second.

“You might regret it.” The stars were twinkling. They were all Jongdae could see.

“You know, I don’t think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I really loved writing this, and I do have plans for a sequel, so if that's something you'd be interested in, let me know!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/some-kind-of-chogiwonderful)


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